Is a Gamble Worth a Gander?
by Adjudicato
Summary: Orario, city over the dungeon. A faithful brother has come here to seek a living. As a failed blacksmith's apprentice, he turns to the promises of wealth given by the labyrinth deep beneath the city. Taking up the sword of his great-grandfather, a legendary adventurer who made his name without the blessing of any God, our hero will find there are no easy solutions in life.
1. Weak Hands, Weak Bodies

Is A Gamble Worth A Gander?

Ch1

Weak Hands, Weak Bodies

Our story begins in the dim, arid interior of a smithy. The soft roar of flames stoked by bellows, the acrid scent of charred metal, the rhythmic ringing of hammer on steel. A small shop occupied by two souls pouring their hearts into their craft. Swing by swing, twisting and turning the glowing metal. Shaping their art hit after hit, touching and feeling the hidden object within the lumps of ore, slowly bringing forth the sight in their minds. Tap tap tap, ching ching ching. Ringing steel singing along to the chorus of the smiths' hearts.

They beat away on their respective pieces, occasionally wiping the sweat from their brow. Though both are clearly talented, one is the obvious superior. An older individual, hands moving with the careful attention of a pianist's fingers, sits just to the right of the large forge-pit in the center of the shop. He stares intently at the glowing lump of steel gripped in his tongs, turning and turning as he brings the hammer down upon it. His dull, aged eyes still show a deep brown hue, glowing in time with the sparks flying off the now tiller-blade-shaped metal.

His muscles flex lightly in the shadows cast by the glow of the forge, timed perfectly with the expert movements of his hammer. His shadow dances along the wall beside him, cast in the fiery glow of the forge, showcasing a very averagely built older gentleman. Jet-black hair is wrapped tightly in a bandana, now soaked in sweat from the heat of his art. A gruff beard, shaggy from neglect of grooming, frames up his chiseled, jutting chin. Chaffed lips cracked from the heat are pursed tightly together in thought and concentration. This is the Master Smith. This is the teacher to the apprentice sitting not two meters away, busily working on his own piece in the dull glow of the forge.

Apprentice, that's what they call him because that is what he is. Apprentice, one who learns from his Master's careful, attentive teachings. Apprentice, hoping to follow in his Master's footsteps and become a great artist of metal-working. Yes, Apprentice is what they call him for that is what he is, or at least it's what he should be. After all, he is learning from a Master. After all, he is hunched over this anvil, in this dingy stone smithy, bathed in the fierce glow of a raging furnace as he shapes raw ore into various tools. The locals call him an Apprentice, his Master does too so that makes it true.

This is what he tells himself, tap tap tapping away on the gradually changing chunk of iron. This is what he tells himself, ignoring the slight throbbing pain building up in his wrists. He repeats it over and over again in his head, _I am an Apprentice._

His brow furrowed tightly over deep brown eyes, glowing fiercely in the light of the iron taking shape before them. Long, dark-brown hair would easily reach past his shoulders if it weren't tied up into a formerly neat ponytail, now a vaguely matted mess of sweat and stray hairs on top of his head. A headband is wrapped tightly around his forehead, failing to catch the sweat nearly pouring from his every pore. A faintly maintained beard, what was once something of a goatee, now beginning to become shaggy, sits on top of a strong chin. Jaw clenched tight, lips pursed much like his Master's, the Apprentice deeply considers the iron before him, almost asking it what it is.

 _Who are you? What are you? What do you want to be?_ These thoughts run through his mind as the metal takes form with every swing of his hammer. He found it easier to work with something with which he could empathize thus, in his mind, he asked the metal the very same questions he oft asked himself. The very same questions that burned in him over his given titled, not rightly earned in his own opinion. After all, an Apprentice should be good at what he does. And he was to some extent. However, as the gradually strengthening throb in his wrists reminded him, one's talent alone wasn't enough to satisfy an evaluation. One's body had to be physically sound enough for his chosen profession. One's hands must be strong and resilient in order to force the will of shape upon the World's bones, the metal he sat there beating into shape.

The young Apprentice sighed deeply and set down his hammer before sticking the iron back into the forge-pit. He buried it under a few glowing red coals and began to tug the bellow-pulley, firing gusts of fresh air into the heart of the furnace. With each long, slow tug the furnace came alive with fiery fury, heating the various bits of metal within. Whooshing breaths of acrid smoke poured from deep within the furnace, fire rising in time with the eerie heartbeat of the forge. With each tug, with each breath of life poured into the coals, the Apprentice's wrist throbbed more intensely.

Satisfied with the rosy-pink glow of his chosen piece of iron, the Apprentice picks up his tongs and grips it once more. Lifting the glowing, seemingly living ore he winces as the worst pain yet jets up his finger, through his wrist and all the way up his left arm. Briefly considering the dangers of another accident, he ignores the pain and brings the metal over to his anvil. At least, that's what he intended to do…

A sudden gasp, a deep lungful of acrid, smoky air and his nerves are all on high-alert. His senses come alive, the pain blooming like cherry-blossoms in spring throughout his left wrist. He braces himself for the disaster, watching helplessly as his hand loses all semblance of strength, fingers unfurling from the tongs. The rosy-pink-glowing billet of iron begins a freefall from the formerly tight grip of his tongs, plummeting to the tune of nausea rising in the Apprentice's gut. Completely helpless, too slow to react, too smart to reach for it with his right hand, he simply watched.

The tiny smithy was very quickly filled with the deep, bellowing curses of a Master Smith, yelling as his left foot was nicely cooked by white-hot iron.

Ω

"God damn it all! Ow!"

The man leapt to his feet with the speed of a bolt of lightning, yanking his foot out from under the glowing bit of iron formerly cooking it. With all the practiced dexterity of one who works with the accident-prone, he hopped once on his good foot to his right. One little skip and he was positioned nicely over the quenching-trough. Without a moment of hesitation he thrust his foot into the water, a look of relief spreading across his face as a wet-spot formed, and gradually widened, on the crotch of his pants.

The Apprentice very audibly swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched his humiliated Master stand there, foot plunged deeply into the cooling waters. Contemplating the meaning of Apprentice he simply sat there in silence.

About an hour passed by. The Master had told him to go outside and wait by the woodpile while he changed himself. So he obeyed, head hung low as he sulked outside in the frigid air. Though the air was actually a seasonally appropriate temperature, after being in that oppressively hot smithy it felt cold as the grave to the young man. He took a deep chest-full of the cool autumn air, the scent of oak and pine carried gracefully by a lazy breeze, and released an equally deep sigh.

It had happened again, he'd done it again. Not out of some kind of malign intent, mind you, but all the same. Though intent did not play into it, neither did it change reality. The fact remained, staring him in the face like an ugly, blistering wound. After all, he was an Apprentice. One who'd just badly burnt his all too forgiving Master for the thirteenth time. Not the best track record no matter how you slice it, he knew he should've been released from service after the first incident.

The Master, however, was an exceedingly kind man. Not only had he agreed to mentor this frail young man but he'd also shown such compassion as to overlook his near-constant mishaps. Accident-prone was not enough to describe the curse that had followed this young man into the shop…

"Hey, Linc…" came a sudden, gruff voice, snapping the Apprentice out of his angst-ridden thoughts, "You're not just gonna mope now, are ya?"

He cocked his head to the right and looked up at the smiling face above him.

"Don't ya think you should at least apologize?" croaked the older man.

"I'm sorry, Harvey. I went and dropped another one…" the Apprentice softly droned.

"Hey! I didn't mean me, ya dunce!" Harvey cackled, "I meant that you should apologize to that poor piece of iron that just got dropped onto some old man's nasty foot!"

The young man couldn't help but chuckle a little at Harvey's tension-diffusing joke. Though, in all honesty he knew the older man was a bit serious. He'd imparted the habit of thinking of the ore as alive upon his Apprentice well. Therefore, it was only proper to apologize to that poor piece of iron. After all, it had hopes and dreams too. It wanted to be shaped into something useful, given birth through the forge's flaming womb. It wanted to live a full, happy life of service like any other working man.

"Right…" said the Apprentice, "I'll have to apologize to it too. But, are you okay?"

"Lincoln Ansley…" began the Master, his voice suddenly turning stern and serious, "Do you have any idea why I told you to wait out here?"

He'd really done it now. There were only two reasons Harvey would use his full name. One was if he'd done an exceptional job on a piece and Harvey was busy making a lucrative sale to a customer. In that case his full name was a badge of honor he wore proudly. The other, however, was a situation that always flooded his blood with adrenaline and filled his heart with fear…

"Yes, Sir, I have an idea…" Lincoln replied sheepishly, straining back the tears edging into his eyes.

"Understand me first, Linc." Harvey began, "You're a good guy. You work hard, you have talent and you're always going that extra length to press your limits."

He could sense _but_ on the edge of his Master's tongue, though it was left unvoiced.

"You have a problem though, young man." Harvey continued, beginning to stroke his forehead with frustration, "It's been six years. You're working hard as ever, I know, but your body… I don't know if you have the physical constitution to handle this work."

Yep, Lincoln knew it was going to go there. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. This wasn't the first time his body had failed him. This wasn't the first time he'd had the will and the resolve but lacked the physical health to keep going, to keep working.

Yes, this was what Lincoln believed to be just another in a long line of these like-themed conversations. Unfortunately, this one was about to set off a series of events that would flip his world over on its head. He watched Harvey furrow his brow and open his mouth to continue…

"Lincoln, you're the hardest worker I've seen in many years, which is why what I'm about to say hurts…"

"Sir, I-!" Lincoln tried to plead his case, but Harvey stuck his hand up between them to silence him. Obediently he shut his mouth.

"Listen, this is the last straw kid. I'm sorry, I really am. Not just for you, but I'm losing an amazing employee, so I'm sorry for myself too ya know?" Harvey took a deep breath and continued, "I took a look at my foot after changing pants. It's burnt to the bone. I should probably be on my way to the apothecary right now, but you deserve a proper warning."

The Master paused for a moment, his eyes glazing over with deep remorse as he looked away from Lincoln. He turned his view to the forest in the distance, admiring the orange and red hues of the autumn foliage. It helped him to collect his thoughts and set his mind at ease for what he was about to say, for what he was about to do. He took a last look upon the gorgeous leaves of the forest, inhaling deeply of the equally pleasing aromatics wafting on the breeze, and turned to face his Apprentice.

"I, Harvey Grahm, as your acting Master Blacksmith, hereby release you, Lincoln Ansley, from service as my Apprentice."

Both the men's hearts sunk low into their gut. A bond had formed over the years between the two. The kind of bond that forms between brothers-in-arms and others that live and work together day-in and day-out. It was breaking the old man's heart to have to do this, but he knew that if it continued he was going to do him more harm than good. After all, even if he taught Lincoln everything he knew, what good would it do him if his body got worse with age? How could his Apprentice, after becoming a master himself, hope to realize his hopes and dreams with such frailty?

Harvey knew it would only get worse with age. After all, he'd only recently celebrated his own fifty-fourth year. His guests, besides Lincoln, included a myriad of aches and pains, most of which had not been there just the previous year. Therefore, before too much of his life was invested in this doomed effort, Lincoln had to find something that his frail hands could do. Harvey knew this, so he swallowed his sorrow and continued.

"I'll have your severance-pay to you by tomorrow and expect you to be packed and ready to return home by such time." Harvey's brow was so scrunched with frustration at this point he looked ready to kill someone. A truly unusual look for him, "I hope you understand why I'm doing this, Lincoln."

"I do, Sir." Lincoln managed to wheeze out through the insane thumping of his heart, "I'm truly surprised you kept me as long as you have…"

"Well, I hope you realize it was a little out of selfishness on my part…" Harvey replied, a tinge of shame in his voice.

"I, Lincoln Ansley, thank you for the mentoring you have provided me, Master!" Lincoln began, ignoring Harvey's previous statement entirely, "I am honored to accept your decision to sever our contract. I will obey your final orders with all haste and be ready to leave by first light tomorrow morning!"

Lincoln assumed an almost military stance and gave his former Master a polite bow.

"Alright, now that the formalities are over, could you help me limp over to get this foot treated?" Harvey asked with a grimaced smile creeping nervously across his face.

Lincoln straightened up and agreed immediately, taking a brief look at Harvey's foot. He was suddenly struck with a mixture of awe and terrifying shame. He'd not registered exactly how bad the wound was when Harvey had first mentioned its severity, but upon seeing the bit of bone exposed through the burn it clicked. He was filled with awe for the resilience to pain his former Master must have, to stand on that grisly injury and give him such a speech. Such consideration to warn him beforehand rather than to just dump it all on him after treatment.

Had Lincoln been left on his own to contemplate the situation, awaiting the return of his Master from treating an injury he'd caused, it would have left him miserably sick from worry. He never was one for being tough in times of trouble. Sure, he could push himself to give more and more effort. Sure, he could push far beyond his limits at times. Yet always, inevitably, his constitution would fail him and his anxiety would peek through again and again. Harvey knew this and spared Lincoln that misery at the cost of his own.

Ω

Autumn was upon the world once again, softly embracing all of nature with the myriad of colors and soft, nippy breezes it brought along with it. Birds sang merry songs as their fragile wings cut elegant patterns of flight through the cool air. Squirrels pattered to and fro, gathering supplies to stow away before winter's cold grip came to set the land to sleep. Leaves rustled carelessly in the breeze, alive with the activity of the creatures of the woodlands. Brooks and creeks trickled merrily along their paths, cut through the living earth over centuries of rains, babbling gently a happy little tune.

Such a serene little scene was one of the secret treasures of the small villages and towns that dotted the countryside here and there. These were scenes that those in the larger cities could never treasure, for one cannot treasure what one does not have to look upon. One cannot steal away an unknown image to lock into their mind's eye. Yes, this was a treasure of the countryside, one that was very deeply treasured by one in particular.

A set of deep, emerald-green eyes took in the sights unfolding this midday. A small, button-nose carefully considered the scent of leaves freshly turned color, the delicate aroma of brooks and creeks babbling along. A small set of ears, carefully framed by vaguely-blonde hair, took in the songs of the birds, the chirps and barks of the squirrels, the tune of the tiny rivers churning along. An incredibly small frame hid a heart, soft and hurt from illness and sorrow, which swelled with each joyous sight, sound, and smell. Pale skin, peeking out from a modest dress, lit up in time with the peeking of the sun from behind lazily moving clouds.

The young girl took in her surroundings, thanking whatever was responsible for this beauty called life. She sat upon a wide, open field, her hair occasionally dancing along with the autumn winds. Despite her circumstances she was quite happy to be alive. Despite everything in her life that would crush others under the weight of sorrow, she was thankful to all the Gods she knew of that her life remained. She was so thankful she got to wake up and enjoy the beauty another day.

"Lillian!" called a familiar, baritone voice, "Lillian, it's dinner time! Come on!"

The happy young girl, Lillian, stood up slowly and brushed off her plain, modest dress. A few blades of grass that had stuck to her posterior were shaken loose before she took off in a light skip toward a small cottage in the distance.

This isn't her home per se, but Lillian is grateful for the roof over her head and food in her belly it provides. She's grateful to the family that provides such things, knowing she cannot do much to repay. She's happy to be blessed enough to have such fortune in her life. After all she is an orphan now. So even if this place isn't her real home it is inhabited by people that care enough not to let her starve to death in the elements. So Lillian does feel very blessed despite her losses.

α

Such a good, happy girl she is, despite the circumstances of her life. Being born so sick and so frail, barely surviving her infancy. She'd always wanted to learn to help around the house growing up, but her body was just too weak to allow it. That and she had such a kind, caring family as to never have to lift a finger to see to her necessities. They would, of course, allow her to exert what independence she could. So, in truth she had learned a little of how to cook simple, short meals and how to do simple, light cleaning. This she did without hesitation as much as she could, never being asked to, not only for her old family but for the new as well. These blessings were so myriad she felt almost a divine calling to do what she was able to.

Lillian certainly wasn't cheap to raise either, though not for being spoiled with lavish gifts. No, Lillian was expensive to raise because of all the business her frailty brought the small town's apothecary. From the word go, medicine and doctors were her constant companions. The fees that came with such were, for a time, what she felt was the weight of her sin of being born. Her parents were such caring people, so kind and loyal to their beloved daughter. Never in a thousand lifetimes could such harsh consideration be passed upon her by them. No, they were all too happy to work themselves to the very limits of their own bodies to bring in the money to keep Lillian seeing doctors and taking the medicines that let her survive her first eight years.

No, instead these harsh thoughts came from Lillian's own mind. She saw these ridiculous visits from doctors and the expensive medicines that accompanied every meal she didn't deserve as judgement for the sin of her birth. This is what she felt of herself, for her parents were far too loving. As was her beloved brother. Oh, those three paragons of duty and love shined brighter than any sun to Lillian's eyes. As if the crushing guilt could never get any worse, it all came crashing down in the harshest manner possible.

Yes, her already miserably guilt-ridden existence was presently strained by the absence of one of the paragons that shined upon her life. Her brother had left to apprentice with a Smithy in a town on the other side of the mountains. He'd left because he could not find enough work here. Of course, he did work nearly fifty hours a week as it was, yet this did not slake his thirst for money. Not greed-driven but duty-bound, his near lust for money drove him to work as though possessed of some malignant spirit.

She could remember it all so clearly, the day he was recruited by _that man_ and left. He was so excited when he came home to explain it all. He'd been slaving away at the local wood mill when a blacksmith spotted him while passing through. Unbeknownst to her brother, the man had watched him for quite some time as he worked like a demon-driven machine. So impressed he was, this blacksmith, that he offered her brother to become his apprentice right then and there. Of course he accepted without any semblance of consideration.

Thus, he left. Six years ago, Lillian's brother left for a world far away, over the mountains and out of sight. Though he still held true to his self-imposed duty, this confirmed by the nearly clockwork arrival of a courier every month. Always the same message, always the same delivery.

"Your Brother says he misses you all and wishes you well." the courier would always say, like a doll reciting its lines, before handing them a sack of various sizes and shapes of coins.

Like clockwork, always so consistent was the faithful brother, the bag held one-thousand Valis. Always would this self-imposed payment come, to support his beloved family. Such a good man he grew to be. Six years it went on like this, twenty-four seasons of the courier's monthly deliveries. With each one, Lillian's heart grew ever heavier with the guilt.

With the absence of the faithful brother, the recent tragedy only sunk that much deeper into her heart. For, in this most recent year, a plague had swept the tiny village she inhabited with her faithful family. A minor plague admittedly, for only one other outside Lillian's family was taken. However, as if some sick form of repayment, Lillian caught the plague. So weak was her body it festered within her, growing ever stronger as she grew ever weaker, until it finally rendered her unable to leave her bed.

As always her faithful, loving parents were right there to tend to their ailing daughter's every need. Never a thought given to their own wellbeing, almost inhuman in their lack of concern for their health, they nurtured Lillian carefully back to health. This, of course, was a fatal mistake. The sickness had grown so strong in Lillian's weak body it easily overtook them not long after her recovery. She was given back her health only to watch her parent's lives be given up in exchange.

This was very nearly the fatal blow to her fragile, guilt-ridden heart. However, almost as if the last act of a dying angel, shortly before her father drew his last breaths he beckoned Lillian to come see him. She had obeyed without a moment of hesitation. Drawing near to her father's side, she had to strain to hear his haggard words…

"Listen, my little Tiger-Lilly," he faintly whispered, a familiar nickname he'd given her at birth, "I'm sorry, but we won't be here to keep taking care of you anymore. Your mother has already gone on ahead and I'm going to be chasing after her shortly."

The old man had to stop and catch his breath, short as it was, before managing to continue with wheezing whispers.

"Please don't think badly of yourself, Tiger-Lilly. Your family has loved you so much since you were born. We still do. I will even after I leave, your mother still does and I know your brother always will."

Once more shortness of breath has caught him in its grip, a sudden bout of coughs wracking his ribs. His whole body rocks as the coughing produces crimson streams of spittle from the old man's lips. A few minutes of this and he manages to pull himself together, his breathing now ragged as ever. Once more he opens his mouth to speak.

"Tiger-Lilly, my time's almost up, so please listen well and hide my words in your heart." He says, his eyes beginning to gloss over with the shimmer of death, "We gave you everything we have because we love you. We put all our effort into helping you fight this frailty because we're a family and families always stick together and hold each other, no matter what."

Lillian listens intently, her face contorted with sorrow, as her father imparts his last few words upon her aching heart.

"Never give up on your family, Tiger-Lilly. That means yourself too. You're part of your brother's family, so giving up on yourself is the same as giving up on him. No matter how bad it gets just keep your faith in your family tucked away, protected, in your heart…"

Pain gripped her as she watched him continue to mouth as though he were still speaking. Yet, breath had failed his words and the light was very quickly leaving his eyes. Lillian leapt up and wrapped her arms around her father, giving him a final, parting hug she'd never know if he felt. She cried very loudly, very hard, for a very long time after that…

She'd been nearly inconsolable for the month following this, moving along as though an empty shell. A cousin of distant relation, living on the outskirts of the village, had come to take her to live with him and his family. She never uttered a word to them as her few belongings were transferred. She never dropped a single tear when they buried her loving parents in the days after their passing. No, she had shut down for a time.

Yet her father's last words played on repeat in her head, in her heart, in her dreams. His words echoed over and over along her consciousness. She had intended to listen, and though she did it was not something she was aware of. Yes, his words had been engrained upon her heart yet it was a subconscious action. It was subtle, and as the weeks passed she found the weight of guilt lifted as her pondering continued. It was slowly, ever so slowly, eaten away by the final act of her loving father until nothing was left of it.

Lillian was not blessed with a particular beauty, nor was she given a healthy body, nor was she even given a particularly academic aptitude. However, she was given the gift of understanding. The dying words of a loving father had unlocked this and in doing so healed her heart of its crushing guilt. Unreasonably fast though it may seem, this is how she became the happy girl that now inhabits her body.

Yes, this is how Lillian became the happy young girl skipping across her cousin's field to join in on another bustling dinner.

Ω

Lincoln's room at the smithy was nothing to be too proud of, especially now that he'd packed up all of his personal ties to it. However the small room had been a faithful guardian for these last six years. Perhaps three by four meters with a two-and-a-half meter height, its roof and four walls had faithfully guarded him from winter's icy grip and springs cold rains. The dingy ceiling had faithfully withheld the sun from scorching him during summer. Yes, he would miss room where he'd rested many tired nights after working so hard for his former Master. Thus, with a final look around the room, along with a twinge of melancholy, he gave a brief bow. Standing straight he turned and walked out for the last time.

Upon leaving the room he walked down a small flight of stairs into the smithy where he'd toiled away his last six years. With a solemn feeling in the pit of his gut he let his gaze drift slowly around the room. From the tentatively arranged tools hanging on their respective hangers in the far corner, to the still glowing forge directly across from him in front of the far wall. Framed by two fully equipped anvils, set up for a single person to be able to work without having to bother the other, the forge cast its eerie heart-beating glow across the shop. Shadows of the various tables, troughs and the anvils danced along the floor and walls.

Lincoln took one more deep nose-full breath of the all too familiar aroma of charred metal, burnt charcoal and hard-earned sweat. It was a comforting smell since he'd begun his training, always making him feel as though he'd truly earned every last Valis to pass into his pocket. The dull throb that followed the end of every day's work, snaking through his every muscle, always brought a sense of accomplishment to his heart. This feeling would in turn help ease the burden of parting from his family.

Now, though, it was over. His own frailty had finally caught up with him and cost him dearly. Harvey had finally had enough of his random goof-ups and released him from their contract. It was only just now sinking in that it had all come to an end. So here he stood, taking in the sights and smells of the home he's so faithfully worked within for these last six years.

Just to top it all off and put the icing on the cake, he'd entirely forgotten it was his birthday today. He'd planned to go to the local pub and live it up last night, before the brilliant episode with the iron billet.

"Happy Birthday…" he muttered under his breath.

With one last, painful glance across the tools of a trade he'd no longer work, Lincoln turned and walked out of the shop for the last time.

As he stepped outside the cool, crisp autumn air greeted him, sending a shiver down his spine. He grabbed his shoulders and rubbed them a little to warm himself up. It was morning, just barely before the first light of day. He'd kept true to his word and was all set to leave.

Taking a few steps along the path from the Smithy door to the road, he noticed a faint silhouette of a man leaning on a tree. Turning his head for a better view it became clear what this was. Harvey stood there, a cigarette burning dimly in his lips, with a weak smile across his face. Holding up his right hand he motioned Lincoln over to him.

"G'mornin, sonny. Already packed I see." The old man began with a friendly tone, "Ya know though, I'm pretty sure yer forgetting something…"

"No," Lincoln replied, "I wasn't gonna leave without my last pay. Politeness aside, I do have a family back home that needs this money."

"Not the money, you idiot!" Harvey spat, his tone turning slightly irritated.

He took a long drag on the cigarette before dropping it on the ground and stomping it out. Then, being careful not to put too much pressure on his left foot, the old man leaned down and picked something up off the ground before offering it to Lincoln.

"Happy twenty-eighth, ya moron…" he chuckled.

"Oh… Well, thanks Sir." Lincoln replied.

"Listen up, kiddo, our contract's dissolved. There's no more need for the formalities." Harvey replied as the young man accepted the offered gift. He produced a small box from the long, light-brown coat he had draped across his shoulders. Opening the box he pulled out a cigarette and a match. He shut the box and deftly struck the match along its exterior, lighting his new cigarette with a few puffs. He gave a deep exhale, releasing a small cloud of smoke before speaking once more.

"Your severance is in that box, along with a little gift. Dunno why but it just seemed appropriate, so I hope it comes in handy at some point down the road." Harvey says, flashing a polite smile, "So, this is goodbye kiddo as I'm sure we won't see each other again. I've hailed a carriage for you, just down the road a ways. Take care, alright?"

"I will Sir!" Lincoln beamed, a wide smile plastered across his face, "Thank you so much for everything!"

And with that the two parted ways. Lincoln slowly trod down the road, away from the town, towards the awaiting carriage. With each step the Smithy grew smaller and smaller in the distance. It was sad, yes, and yet almost a relief now that it had finally happened. He'd known staying forever was not an option, and he eagerly awaited returning home to regale his parents with tales of this venture. Thus, with a swelling sense of eagerness within his heart he broke into a light jog towards the carriage, former Master's parting gift under his arm.


	2. The Sword in the Box

Chapter 2

The Sword in the Box

β

Silence, pure and unbridled silence. This dark color of sound crept sleepily across the mountain range every morning, very nearly since the dawn of time. Blankets of lazy clouds drifting just over the tops of rocky peaks speckled with patches of snow here and there. Slivers of dawn's rays shone blazing trails across the very tips of the mountains, casting long-reaching shadows across the land as the sun slowly ascended to its daylight throne. Gradually came the waking sounds, stirs and echoes from the valleys below. Squeaks and squabbles, yawns and chirps as the world and all of nature slowly rose in time with the sun.

Silence had occupied this mountain range, silence as the grave. Eerily cold yet welcoming, replaced now by the dawn stirrings. One such stirring broke clearly above the rest, one particular sound that had fought the silence since before the first twilight rays of morning. The slow, rhythmic cackle of wooden wheels grinding along long-trodden stone paths through the mountain range. The melodic bobbing of passengers and belongings held in the back of a horse drawn cart carried along the dawning mountain, almost seeming as a wake-up call for the sleepy peaks. The clopping of freshly shod horse hooves set a merry beat to the entire melody, framing the procession into something of a tiny orchestra.

Sleepy brown eyes the color of aged mahogany gazed across the serene beauty stretched out before them, drifting occasionally to the other passengers that sat alongside their owner. A lively young couple that was just a tad too forward giggled lightly at some shared inside joke. The man leaned in closer and hugged the clearly pregnant woman, a gentle sort of embrace, as an aura of joy beamed off the both of them. Opposite the young couple sat and oddly ragged man wrapped in a dingy grey robe, a hood obscuring the top of his face. Clearly asleep, a thin line of drool could be spotted precariously dangling from his slacked mouth.

The same sleepy brown eyes turned their gaze once again to the narrow pass of the mountain. Rock by boring rock they counted to tedious moments passing by, very nearing lulling themselves to sleep. One such rock found its way under one of the carriage's wheels, jostling the entire group and waking the owner of those sleepy brown eyes once more. An irritated look glazed across them as the journey pressed onward, winding slowly down the final mountain between them and home.

β

Lillian gazed longingly upon the cold, unmoving visage of the mountains stretched out before her. Patient, sleeping stone behemoths as they seemed to lie there, ever vigilant guardian of some long-gone world. Watching and waiting, sleeping but aware. Always guarding, those mountains. A vigil kept, surely since the beginning of time immemorial, with unwavering might imposed upon the scenery around them. Their shadows cast as long curling fingers that caressed the savannahs below with every dawn's rise and every dusk's descent. Their snowy caps akin to the wizened scalp of some great mage of stories and song. Yes, she gazed ever so intently upon these mountains, wishing to them, nay, praying to them that they would bring the last remaining Paragon home to her again. She prayed with all her might that these mountains, the very same that have separated them for these six years, would bring her brother home at last.

It had been two entire months now since the courier last came. Two entire months since that clockwork delivery had found her, assuring her that one Paragon remained in her life. Assuring her that she wasn't completely alone, torn entirely from the familiar faces of love and kindness she'd known through her formative years. Ah yes, two entire months since that clockwork delivery now weighed heavily upon her heart as she silently gazed upon the stony vigil, reciting her silent prayer.

Funny how these things work. Funny how despite the common knowledge that the Gods exist, that they even live among us now, people seem to forget that prayer is a very real thing. Funny how people forget that their prayers are heard and answered, always. Yes, people forget this because the answer is usually neither obvious nor what we want. Yet, usually is not always. No, usually is not the rule nor is it written in stone. This all occurred to Lillian as she gazed upon the waking mountains, bathing in the golden glow of dawn, when she spotted a dot traveling along the descending path into her village.

This dot, of course, meant nothing to her at first. Why, it could have simply been a speck of sleep still stuck in her eye for all she knew. So she simply kept staring, kept praying, kept thinking. Her gaze never broke from that stunning wall of sleeping stone giants. She traveled along in her thoughts, eyes glued as ever, to places far beyond the mountains. She basked in the beauty before her, thanking the Gods for the gift, happily chanting her prayer.

She had to remember to be thankful. She had to remember to appreciate whatever the Gods let her keep. They had shown her this by taking so much away. So even though she chanted that prayer so relentlessly, she also chanted her thanks in between the prayers. Lillian watched those mountains for hours, praying and thanking, appreciating and hoping…

β

Midday now. The sun is at its peak, gazing down lovingly upon the land as it just barely brings the temperature above a cool chill. Autumn, that is indeed the season. The leaves rustling like mesmerizing, living dresses of scarlet hues upon the trees. The clear and slightly emerald-ish creeks and brooks trotting along. The distinct smell of the changing, cooling air.

Deep brown eyes take this scenery in, now awake and aware. A pointed nose, perhaps just slightly longer than it should be, is tickled by the faint scent the autumn air brings along with it. His thoughts are everywhere, bouncing like rabbits at play, when a familiar sight raises him from daydreams. It had snuck up on him, but it was unmistakable. Lincoln could now distinctly make out the small village sprawling along the savannahs at the base of the mountain, the same base his carriage now approached.

A sudden gust of joy and excitement filled him with an energy he hadn't felt since leaving the smithy nigh unto a month ago. Indeed the journey home had been long, but thanks to the carriage it was not arduous. Merely a tedious waiting game, which he had now won. His home was there, plainly in sight, and this gave his legs an urge which was quickly becoming undeniable.

Mother, Father and Sister all awaited him. They were there and he knew they would be equally excited as he. They were there, ready to hear of his exploits in the town beyond the mountains. They were there and he could not wait to see them.

The urge was a burning desire now, nearly unstable in its fervor. With little more thought left to give, so excited was he, Lincoln leapt from the side of the cart. He cleared the railing, belongings upon his back, and hit the ground running as though possessed. So sudden and swift was his departure that the other passengers thought he'd been stolen away by a bandit or some such. With a light chuckle upon seeing his mad form running toward the village, everyone released a collective sigh.

"My my, but isn't he full of energy?" giggled the soon-to-be mother, "Must be his own wife awaiting him at home!"

"Hm, surely someone dear awaits him…" chimed in her husband, gently wrapping his arm around her.

They watched the young man gradually fade away to nothing as he ran off into the distance.

Ω

Lincoln ran as fast as his legs could carry him, pumping them with the rhythm of one in flight from mortal danger. But there was no danger, only the excitement of returning at long last to home. So he kept up the maddened pace until it had finally brought him to the outskirts of the village. There he finally slowed himself down, allowing himself to catch his breath.

Once he'd managed to slow his ragged breathing somewhat he stood up straight and took a look around. The streets were bustling, as much so as a small village can, with the activity of the locals. Mothers walked with children in tow to do their daily shopping. A number of food stands were set up along what passed for the main street. Mongers barked their wares to the passing people, hoping to make a sale. Men walked around carrying various odds and ends, most likely to wherever they spent their days working.

It brought back memories of his time doing odd jobs all over the village. Though the Ansley's were relatively unknown just ten years ago, Lincoln's constant and feverish work ethic had made the name synonymous with unyielding effort.

He began to slowly walk into the village, passing the few houses lying on the very edge. Little by little he made his way to the small fountain in the center of town, surrounded on all sides by various market stalls.

The slightly off-colored water bubbling from the top cast glints and sparkles in all directions. Buildings of simple wooden design framed the fountain square with three cobblestone paths leading between them, away from the fountain. All the buildings were painted a humbled whitewashed color, imparting the simple form of the surroundings.

Slowly, one by one, people began to take notice of the familiar person that had just walked into town. A nagging feeling at first, then an almost nauseating realization sunk in. One by one the people recognized the other surviving Ansley had returned. The look crept upon their faces. It was an unease that awkward news always brought along. It was very nearly sense of guilt that painted itself on the villager's faces as they realized who had finally come home.

He could see it, though the reason was lost on him. He could sense their unease through the thickening atmosphere. He could read the look on their faces. Slowly, in turn with the villager's, his sense of relief and joy faded away. Replacing it was a growing anxiety. One poised to choke him.

"Excuse me, young man…" said a satin haired woman, stepping up to confirm his identity, "Are you, by chance, the Ansley boy?"

The reservation in her voice reverberated through him, setting his nerves afire with worry.

"Yes, ma'am. I am." He replied, now sure there was something amiss.

Others stopped and gathered around, keeping a fair distance, to see for themselves if it was really him. Most of the village had believed him gone for good. Therefore it struck them as odd that he would return so soon after the tragedy had befallen his family. Perhaps he'd heard the news. In any case, curiosity had overtaken them and they wanted to know. They wanted to see with their own eyes and hear with their own ears.

The crowd all wore worried looks upon their faces. Sad almost. They stood around him, increasing Lincoln's already heightened alarm. He looked from face to face, the same expression seemingly copied on every one of them. At last, he could take the silence no more.

"Has something happened?" he asked timidly, not entirely wanting an honest answer.

"So he hasn't heard…" one of the villagers muttered to another. It was just barely audible, but he heard the old man's words clearly.

"What happened?!" he now yelled, his alarm peaked.

The satin haired woman who had originally spoken to him turned her face away from him for a moment. She looked to the ground as if searching for some dropped piece of jewelry. It was obvious she couldn't bring herself to reveal whatever horrid news awaited him. So he looked every other face around him in the eyes, one by one, hoping to find someone brave enough to tell him.

"Your family is dead, kid." piped in a man, very near his own age, with no hint of pity in his voice.

"Johan, watch your tone!" yelled an older woman, his mother by the looks of it, before smacking the man across the back of his head.

The words did not immediately sink in. They didn't even register for a few minutes. The sound crept through his mind and minutes passed before he could decipher it. It was as if he didn't know the language the man had spoken to him.

"What do you mean…" Lincoln whispered.

"Your mother and father died, Linc. A few months ago now…" this time he recognized the speaker instantly.

It was Iselde, a girl had been courting on occasion before leaving across the mountains. Her honeyed voice did nothing to soothe the growing disbelief and despair within him. He looked her in the eye.

"What happened?" this time his voice was strong and commanding.

Over the next few minutes the crowd dispersed. Only a few remained as he was brought up to date on the events that had transpired. The seemingly minor plague and how it had only claimed one life in the main village. The way it crept into the outskirts, effecting the houses in the fields. The way his sister had fallen ill. The way his faithful parents tended to her.

They gave him every detail that they knew, even incriminating themselves. As they told him, his parents might have been spared the grip of death had anyone known they'd fallen ill sooner. However, no one had bothered to check on them until it was too late. His mother had already passed and his father was beyond any help the village could muster.

Every last detail revealed, a welcome home gift from hell, it slowly crept into him. The truth sank slowly but surely, like a boulder sinking into muck.

 _So, this is what I come home to… Why?_

It wasn't easy, but Iselde managed to talk him into joining her at the pub to sit down. He followed along listlessly, much like a wind-up doll with a broken spring. The pub was very close but the walk felt like ages.

α

Lillian was busy washing some dishes, one of the few tasks relegated to her, when a neighbor suddenly appeared just beyond the kitchen window. He looked both excited and distinctly alarmed. Rapping loudly upon the window he scared Lillian quite badly. She almost dropped the plate she had been scrubbing. Lightly clutching her chest, and with a deep breath to calm herself, she pushed the window open.

"What's wrong?" she asked the man with her melodic voice.

"It's Lincoln! It's your brother!" the man yelled, clearly out of breath and very excited, "He's come home! Quickly, he's at the pub right now! They're filling him in about the plague and I'm sure he needs you right now…"

The man didn't stay long enough to see Lillian's eyes pour like rivers. Vision obscured by the furious tears, she dropped the plate and bolted for the front door. It was flung open and she was running for the village square in an instant.

Her frail body was of exceedingly poor health. It was certainly not built for this kind of heavy sprinting. Yet all the same she furiously pumped her legs, right foot after left. She ran as though it was only natural. She ran as though it was all she ever did. Yes, that very moment she was running towards the last thing that mattered to her, the last remaining Paragon. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to think. So furious was her pace and equally so the pain it brought.

Lillian didn't care. She wanted to get there to see him. Though this was the first time in her life she had ever truly ran, it mattered not. With the lone thought of reuniting with her brother burning like the sun in her mind, Lillian ran her frail little body to its absolute limit.

Ω

Lincoln sat at a small table in the corner of the village pub. It was a dingy place, yes, but warm and welcoming. The soft glow of magic-stone lamps cast golden light throughout the watering hole. The thrum of energy coursing through them gave the place an entrancing feel. Worn pinewood boards made up the floor, stained from years of merrymaking and cavorting. The walls were a cast slurry of sand and other odds and ends. They had a very intricate pattern running all along them.

With the light of early evening still shining brightly through the front windows one could see that it was not busy. A few customers here and there nibbled on a small meal or drank down a pint of water or tea. Nobody was merrymaking this early. Nobody was cavorting in the day-lit bar. Yet even if the cover of night were upon them, no one would want to.

A foul pallor of a mood had fallen over the guests, most of which had followed Iselde and Lincoln inside. The circumstances of his return were anything but jubilant. Nay, he was instead met with what amounted to the worst news of his life. A burden immediately thrust upon him for which there was no provision to carry.

"Lincoln, I'm so sorry for your loss…" Iselde whispered shamefully, reaching across the table to grab hold of his hands, "Your parents really were amazing people. They have been missed."

She was not the best at consoling, even when prepared. Today though, she was caught entirely off guard. His return, while welcomed, was unexpected to the furthest degree. Though she desperately wanted to comfort him there were no words she knew to help.

"Iselde, it's okay. I'm just in a bit of shock." He murmured in reply, trying to reassure her instead, "And, I don't mean to be rude but I need to check on Lillian. I have to see she's okay for myself."

He'd been informed that, due in large part to their parents, Lillian had miraculously survived.

"If you feel up to it, I'll take you to see her." Iselde offered.

"Yeah, I'm definitely up to it."

"Well then, let's go. It's a bit of a walk."

Iselde stood up and began to walk to the door, stopping when she remembered she needed to pay her tab. She turned around and walked back to the bartender.

"I'm sorry, just give me a moment to pay and I'll be right out." She told him, a small smile across her face.

Shrugging his shoulders Lincoln continued on toward the door, reaching out for the handle when it flew open with all the fury of a great storm. He barely had time to realize what was happening before getting a thorough mouthful of aged oaken door.

α

Lillian was almost there. She could clearly see the fountain growing in the distance. Her legs were on fire, or so it felt. Her lungs as well. It seemed as though her tiny chest would pop at any moment. Yet it would all be worth it soon. She knew it would. He was so close now. Six years had passed so slowly but now it seemed only the blink of an eye.

At last she reached the great oaken door of the pub. Still in a full sprint she braced herself for the imminent impact and threw herself into the door.

It wasn't bad as she had expected. Of course, the door had been left slightly ajar as someone was opening it from the other side. When she hit it swung wide and fast, knocking the poor sod on the other side across the face and onto the ground. Lillian herself rolled into the pub like a child's bouncy ball, coming to a stop upon hitting the bar. She propped herself on her elbows and slowly sat up, eyes squeezed shut as she winced at the pain flooding into her all at once.

After a brief moment she opened her eyes and turned to see what damage she might have done. The first sight that registered was also the only sight to do so. She could see her brother laying on the floor, his face battered from the door's violent opening. It took her only a moment to put two and two together before the scream.

With a wail that would frighten a banshee, Lillian looked straight up at the ceiling and passed out cold.

ϕ

"Look at those two… You'd never guess how young they are if you didn't know…" sighed a young man, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He ran his fingers through the light-blonde locks that sat carelessly across his face. A face now contorted with the worry of one whom has bad news to impart.

He stood in the center of a cozy little cottage. His feet were planted carefully atop a threadbare rug which was once the color of mid-spring dogwood blossoms. Now though, just as age had worn its body so too had it worn its color to a dingy grey. The rug still managed to serve the purpose for which it had long ago been purchased. It sat atop a simple wooden floor of pitched planks. Of course, as time and the elements had worn the pitch down, there were many small cracks and crevices all across the floor. Threadbare and dingy, the rug still managed to hide and insulate most of the worst crevices.

The planks themselves were once of oaken make. Not to say that age had changed them to some other material, but it had worn them just as the pitch and the rug. Once a light sandalwood color, time had stained them to an off-brown with faint hints of green. All the same they retain the sturdiness for which the tree they came from is so famous. Years of being tread and sat upon had not weakened them, though the constant creaks elicited by the slightest movement begged consideration of the integrity.

The boards made up the entire floor of the living area, meeting the walls under a, once beautiful, mahogany molding. Perhaps one of the last adornments left in the house that could testify to the taste of its original builder, the molding between floor and wall traveled all throughout the house. It was still vaguely decorated with the embossing of Gods and Goddesses. The deep brown color of the wood had stood up to the test of time's passage, perhaps as well as the house's central supports.

The walls framed in the color pattern nicely being made of rosewood stained a slightly darker color. Their age showed through in that the stain had faded slightly over the years, leaving behind something of a shading effect. The two-toned color cast a warm energy through the room.

Crowning the top of the rosewood walls was another set of molding, this an off-ivory color. It was deeply engraved with murals depicting a great, bullheaded man locked in combat with what could only be described as a bulwark of a man. The scene was a fantastic antithesis to its comrade laying upon the foot of the walls. It strongly captured the soul of this house's builder and original owner.

Above the heads of those occupying the small living area was a sturdy ceiling of roughhewn logs, perhaps of alpine or oaken make. Framed by strong pitch and clay this ceiling had stood valiantly against the weathering of eighty-one year's passage. So finely made it showed not the slightest hint of its age. Five distinct beams ran across the sturdy ceiling with a humble brass chandelier hanging upon the center. It cast a warming glow upon the room with its eight little magic stones. This same glow had been upon the walls and floorboards for the last three quarters of a century.

Truly, anyone who knew the Ansleys and their desperate finances would never have guessed at the true value of this modest-seeming house. It looked fairly lavish to the untrained eye, but a master appraiser would have known immediately that it was built by one with truly great tastes and equally deep pockets.

The young man turned his attention away from his observations of the house, of whose owners he might have been slightly jealous if not for their present situation, and considered whether or not to wake the sleeping siblings. They were both laying in simply patterned chair of fair quality, the fabric reminiscent of cotton-soft burlap. The chairs were positioned on either side of a small sofa, perhaps just wide enough to fit four modestly sized people if they sat uncomfortably close together.

To his left hand side was a young man with a slightly muscular, lanky build. Perhaps just under six feet if he stood straight up this man was not particularly imposing. His skin was just a shade darker than fair, arms fairly covered in a light-colored sleeve of hair. He'd grown quite a bit since Raphael had last seen him. He hated to lay the full extent of the terrible news upon his cousin's shoulders. Alas there was no avoiding it and he knew this.

To his right hand side lay a petite girl just on the cusp of blooming into womanhood. Her vaguely-blonde hair, the color of goldenrod just beginning to wilt and brown, lay loosely around her pallid face. Her button nose flared slightly with every inhaled breath. This girl had been his guest for the last few months. Though under terribly unfortunate circumstances she had remained in remarkably good spirits since recovering from the trauma of her loss. Always so willing to help around the house, despite her own frailty. Always so ready to infect you with her loving smile. It pained him to tell either one what he was loathed to reveal.

Decision reached at last, Raphael takes a deep breath and walks to the man first. He places a hand on his left shoulder and shakes him slightly until he responds. With a rustle and a grunt he slowly opened his eyes and straightened up. Before he could realize who had woken him Raphael moved over to awaken the girl. As before he places a hand on her shoulder and gives a light shake, rousing her from the comfort of slumber.

"Raphael!" beams an elated voice from behind him.

He turns to see Lincoln, now awake and standing, holding his arms wide open. He closes in and the two share a quick hug, a greeting of reunion between long-separated family.

"Lincoln!" once more comes an elated voice from behind him, this time of a high pitch.

Raphael can barely move out of the way before the tiny girl bolts past him and slams into the just recently standing Lincoln.

He just barely manages to stay standing. Lillian is hugging him so tightly it is surprising. He did not know her fragile frame could exert such strength. Lincoln wraps his arms around her in response, hugging her just tightly enough not to hurt her.

"Lincoln! You're home! You're really home…" she begins to sob.

"It's ok Lil, I'm home. I'm here." he reassures her.

The siblings hug for just a little longer before Lincoln carefully separates the embrace. He holds her shoulders and kneels down to look his sister in the eye. The slight tremble he can feel brings forth a twinge of sadness in his heart. She's been so brave to push through this tragedy. He's so very proud of her.

"Lil, I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I didn't say goodbye and you had to face this all alone." Lincoln began, the pangs of guilt all too easily heard in his voice, "But I'm so very proud of you! You held together, Lil. Now I'm back and you don't have to handle it alone anymore, ok?"

Lillian choked back her tears and flashed a big, almost silly grin at him. It was real but it looked almost put-on. He patted her lightly on the head and smiled back.

"It's good to have you back, Linc." Raphael chimed in, a little sorry to break up the touching reunion, "I'm very sorry Lincoln, but I'm afraid I have even more bad news for you."

Lincoln turned to look at his cousin. He could see the seriousness on his face was no act so he decided it would be best to take a seat. With an unceremonious flop he placed his rear firmly upon the couch behind him. He patted the cushion beside him a few times to tell Lillian to sit beside him. She quickly took the offered seat and they both turned their gaze back to Raphael. With a long sigh he began to relay the news.

"Listen, your parents were great people. Unfortunately they've left you quite the burden to carry." he paused, turning his gaze to peer out a window, "As the sole heir of the Ansley estate you're now about fifty-two-thousand vals in debt. Your parents did everything they could to keep this place afloat and your sister in as good a health as possible."

Feeling the pressure, Raphael decided to take a seat as well. He took a few steps over to the chair that had been occupied by Lillian and slowly sat himself in it. He leaned back and crossed one leg across the other thigh. With a deep breath he continued.

"The line of credit your parents held with the local doctor is now yours and it's in collection." he only had one more tidbit to impart before this nasty business was done with, at least for him, "Lastly, and for this I am sorely ashamed and sorry, I cannot offer the both of you to stay with me. I'm afraid I simply don't have the finances to support either of you any longer."

Raphael hung his head in shame and hoped Lincoln could accept his circumstances. He very nearly held his breath in anticipation of a furious response. After all he'd basically just thrown the two to the wolves with this bombshell. Even Lillian hadn't known of the massive debt awaiting them.

"It'll be alright, Raph…" Lincoln broke the silence with reassuring words and a bright smile. It was much unexpected. "That's some really shitty news, but we're still alive, Lil and me. We can get through this 'cause we got each other, ya know?"

It struck Lillian just how much that sounded like their Father's last words. It was quite calming to her nerves to hear such a thing come from Lincoln's mouth. Still a pang of guilt remained in her heart from what Raphael had told them, but now she knew for sure it would be okay.

"Well, I'm certainly relieved to hear you put it that way, Linc." Raphael said, scratching the back of his head nervously.

Raphael stood up and gave a deep bow before turning to head for the front door. He'd been fretting this conversation for months now and it was a great relief how well it had gone. He knew Lincoln was a good man, responsible and level-headed. Even still, this was something that would put a strain on a saint's patience.

"I'll check in on you two as often as I can, Linc." he said as he neared the door, "If I can help you out I will, though I'm afraid I can't offer too much…"

"It'll be alright like I said, Raph. Just be sure to let me know if you hear of anyone in town looking for an employee."

Raphael grabbed hold of the door and pulled it open before turning around and meeting Lincoln's gaze. They locked eyes for a brief moment, a look of understanding passed between them. The kind of look that passes between adults on equal ground. It was a strange feeling. Lincoln was only just barely a man when he had left. Yet now he stood here, the aura of a full-fledged adult with him. Raphael couldn't help but admire his growth.

"I will, Linc. Keep your chin up okay, cousin?" Raphael smiled and gave a final bow, "See you later."

"Goodbye for now, cousin." Lincoln replied, giving a bow and a smile after in return.

ϕ

Lincoln gave a final wave to his departing cousin before closing the door behind him. He sighed deeply and turned to face his sister who was still sitting on the couch. The evening sun cast rays of deep gold upon the interior of the home he'd been gone from for so long. It was serene and surreal, to finally be back and taking in such familiar sights.

Looking around he spied the pile of his belongings setting against the far side of the wall. Suddenly reminded of the present Harvey had given to him he walked over and picked up the box. He hadn't really given it all that much thought since he left the smithy. It just couldn't compete with the excitement that the prospect of returning home had brought. Then, in the shock brought on from the terrible news he had received, it was completely forgotten about for the better part of the day. Now though, brought back to the forefront of his mind he wondered what might be in there.

"What's that box you're holding, Brother?" Lillian's soft voice chimed in, breaking the silence and his line of thought.

Lincoln turned to face her once more, walking back over to sit beside her on the couch. He plopped down with a sigh, the box clutched between his hands. He turned his face to look her way and flashed a big smile.

"It's a parting birthday gift from my Ma- my former Master." his smile twitched a tad, "I thought we could both take a peek at it together. Wanna?"

"Oh my, I'm so sorry! I forgot your birthday had passed in all the turmoil!" Lillian yelled, a small grimace of shame coming upon her, "I'll return in a moment, Brother!"

With that she leapt up and disappeared into another room. Lincoln could hear the sound of items being rummaged around. A small puff of dust trailed behind her a Lillian returned, a small box with simple brown butcher's paper wrapped around it clutched to her chest. She stopped in front of her brother and held out the box.

"This is for you, for all the birthday's I've missed!" she proclaimed excitedly, her head bowed somewhat.

Lincoln set Harvey's gift on the floor beside him and reached up to grab the box she offered. It was about a foot long or slightly more, maybe five inches deep. It felt heavier than it seemed it should.

"Thank you, Lil. I should've brought you something too…" he said, remembering he'd missed as many of her birthdays as she had his.

"That's okay, Brother! You've done more than enough for me already. Now, open it up and have a look!" her face was filled with excitement, a wide smile making small dimples under rosy cheeks.

He'd really missed those smiles while away. She used to smile the same way when their mother would praise her for learning something new or cleaning around the house. It was the same smile she'd have when their father would give her a big hug. Now that they were gone it made him all the more grateful to see that smile still existed.

With a big smile of his own Lincoln peeled the neatly wrapped brown paper off of the box. Underneath the paper was a simple wooden box with a neat little latch and two hinges on the back. He admired it for a brief moment before thumbing the latch and opening the box. What he saw inside made his heart sink, realizing he hadn't told Lillian he was released from his Master's service. Inside sat a pair of tongs and a small hammer, the type used for shaping precious metals into jewelry.

"Lil, I…" he couldn't choke out his words, the tears were already coming. Not very manly but he was always a little apt to cry. Indeed, Lincoln was not what you would describe as a particularly tough example of a man.

"What is it? Do you not like them?" Lillian asked, her excitement now replaced with worry.

"No!" he replied quickly, sniffling as he wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve, "They're wonderful, Lil. I really do like them a lot. It's just that… Harvey released me from being his apprentice. I'm not a smith anymore…"

Lillian was aghast at this revelation. She wanted to snatch the box and throw it out the window, or perhaps bury it somewhere far off in the fields.

"Well, let's see what _he_ gave you then." she wheezed, trying to divert her mind.

"Lil, honestly. I really do like your gift. I'll cherish it even if I never get to use it." He was smiling again, having successfully choked the sorrow down into his gut.

Following her suggestion, Lincoln gently closed the box and set it on the small table in front of the sofa. As he reached down to grab Harvey's gift once again, Lillian sat back down beside him. She was burning with shame over her own gift and desperately wanted to see what the smith had given him. She hoped it would get her mind off of her own blunder.

Lincoln set the box on his lap. It was perhaps three feet long, about four inches wide and not terribly deep. It was very thoughtfully wrapped in a soft, velvety red cloth tied together with a simple yellow string. The weight was perhaps around eight pounds, give or take. With gradually deepening intrigue he slowly pulled the string holding the knot together. He unraveled the string and folded the cloth out of the way.

Underneath was a mahogany box with the Smithy's title carefully charred into the top. A shiny silver latch adorned the front, holding the box tightly shut. On the back were two blackened steel hinges that perfectly accented the deep brown of the wood. Now truly impressed and curious, he opened up the latch and opened it up, swallowing the lump forming in his throat.

Inside was a simple looking amulet of slightly tarnished silver. It had the look of master craftsmanship about it but had clearly seen quite some years. Unadorned with jewels it did have a character of intrigue to it. All along the face of the pendant strung on the chain were symbols of some kind he'd never seen before.

As Lincoln pondered the locket his eyes noticed the other two presents in the box. To either side of the amulet sat a small bar of solid gold. It was the severance pay he'd been promised in the contract, by about three times over. His breath left him as he stared in disbelief at the shimmering contents of Harvey's gift.

"Wow…" Lillian whispered, her eyes transfixed by the seemingly lavish gift, "Hey, what's that under the necklace?"

Lincoln looked a tad closer and noticed the slip of paper under the pendant of the amulet. He lifted the amulet and undid the clasp, pulling the chain around his neck and affixing the clasp back in place. It felt right, oddly enough. He then picked up the slip of paper and unfolded it to see what was within.

 _Dear Lincoln,_

 _I hope you can make some good use of this. There was_

 _a time when I'd worn this amulet myself and it has kept_

 _me from harm on more than a few occasions. I never_

 _did figure out what the markings meant, but they_

 _seemed to protect me when danger would find me._

 _Well, happy birthday kiddo. I hope the amulet keeps_

 _you safe wherever you might find yourself._

 _-Harvey_

"What a guy… Thanks, Harvey…" Lincoln muttered under his breath.

Looking at the two gold bars he could guess it was about six-thousand valis. Quite the severance package no matter which way you looked at it. This would ensure that he could provide Lillian her medicine for at least a month and keep them both fed. This was just the windfall he needed to hold them over until he could find work.

"You know Brother, I kind of hated that smith for taking you from us…" came Lillian's almost sleepy words, stirring him from his pondering, "But he really is a good guy after all, huh?"

Lincoln couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, he really is. I'll have to thank him for this someday."

ϕ

The two made light chatter for a time after, talking over the events of the last six years in some brief detail. Though Lincoln wanted to know more about their parent's passing he was relieved that the topic was not brought up. The conversation instead stayed fairly lighthearted and simple, just two siblings catching up after years apart. It went on that way for perhaps an hour before hunger made itself known.

"I think I should get us some dinner ready. What would you like, Lil?" Lincoln queried, digging through the modest rations in his rucksack. He assumed, and rightly so, that their house would be devoid of food since it had been uninhabited for a few months now. Anything not used or disposed of was bound to be rotted at this point.

"I'll help to, Brother!" Lillian exclaimed with a sparkle in her eye, "It'll be easier to decide if I'm helping to prepare anyways."

The two set to work with the dried meats and few, long-lived veggies he had packed for rations. With some small effort they had managed to prepare a modestly flavored stew and some salad. It was a meal of meager flavors, and yet the company with it accented the food so as to be somewhat of a delicacy. Indeed as the flavor of a good cheese is far amplified with fine wine, the siblings discovered the same application could be discerned from proper company.

Laughs and smiles were shared over flippant conversation and jovial tone. The house seemed to almost respond in kind, an energy of warmth and comfort seeming to exude from the very floor. It too was happy to have the light of joy and family within its halls once more, a light only brought by the descendants of its original builder.

Lincoln and Lillian could both sense the ardor seeming to permeate every corner of the house. In fact, Lincoln could almost swear it was coming from one point in particular. As if the house's heart were radiating this feeling. He simply brushed off the feeling though and looked his sister in the eye, a seriousness coming upon his face.

"Lillian, can I ask you something important?" he chimed calmly.

"Of course! Is it bad?"

"No, no… It's about our finances." he replied, hoping his tone was reassuring enough, "I was wondering if you'd be okay here by yourself while I'm out working. When I find work, of course."

"I know I'm frail, brother, but you don't have to worry that much." Lillian's reply came across almost as if she was faintly aggravated at the implication that she needed to be babied and watched over.

"I know you're strong, Lil. I just wanted to be sure you'll be alright."

"I'll be fine. But do you have to look for work so soon after coming home?" the look in her eyes was almost something of melancholy.

"Yeah, I need to get to working again as soon as possible. As long as I'm alive you'll never need to worry for medicine or food or anything!" this time Lincoln's tone carried a fervor behind it, a sense of divine duty if you will.

"Thank you, brother…" Lillian sighed, her heart filled with gratitude, "I'm lucky to have you."

His intentions made clear Lincoln stood and stacked up their empty plates and glassware. He took it to the kitchen and began to rinse them off. Lillian simply sat there, her mind filled with thoughts of a bleak future. She worried for her brother if he had to spend his days providing for and looking after her. It was certainly a burden, yet she also remembered the final words her father had imparted to her. With that she couldn't bring herself to be sad about it, instead filled entirely with gratitude that the Gods had given her such a blessed guardian.

After cleaning up what was left on the table she went to check on her Brother. Upon entering the kitchen he was drying off and putting away the last fork. Therefore, with everything taken care of and their bellies full the two decided it was time to turn in. They walked across the living room into their respective rooms, traded their goodnights and went to sleep.

ϕ

The next few days were a monotonous parade of disappointments. Like clockwork Lincoln went out every morning, shortly before the shops and businesses would be opening, to seek employment. He pursued this task with the zeal of a driven man. Every day he would walk out into the early-morning chill of autumn, his footsteps on the cobblestone paths around town becoming a wakeup call for those still sleeping. Every day his head would be hung in disappointment as he returned home, no job to show for his efforts.

At first he went to his former employers at the wood mill and the granary. They were just fine as he found out, just enough business not to be lacking but not enough to hire him. After this he tried the farms and fields to see if they needed extra hands. Each time it was the same story.

Once he had exhausted the places nearby he began to go into the main town. Perhaps, he thought, the stalls and merchants might have need of him. Alas it was all the same, no matter to whom he talked. All were doing just fine and had no need of an extra pair of hands. This continued on for the next week until he had exhausted even the main town of options. No one would hire him it seemed.

The financial windfall from selling the two gold bars would not last forever, he knew this well. Medicine was by no means a cheap commodity, nor were the payments on his inherited debt. The mounting hole in his severance pay only served to increase his alarm and add further fervor to his seemingly futile search for gainful employment.

Lillian hated to watch her brother like this. It was different from how he'd been before leaving for his Apprenticeship. Back then it was a dutiful pursuit just as now, but this sense of emergency was not so burnt into his figure. No, at that time it was merely the fervent pursuit of a responsible, respectable son seeking to aid his family's finances. Now it was the almost maddened hunt of an older brother desperate to take care of his sister.

What's worse was that she couldn't help him. The frailty which was the source of most of their predicament was also a great cage of chains that stayed her feet. So she pushed herself instead to do what she could to keep their home clean and welcoming for his return. This was her daily pursuit. This was the duty she carried out with all the same fervor as her Brother's search. Dusting and cleaning around the house or doing their laundry. Some days she'd wash the dishes and only when necessary would she rest her fatigued body.

It was nearly three weeks into this, as the horror of their dwindling finances loomed over their heads, that Lincoln left even earlier for the wood mill. He decided to try a rather underhanded tactic, intending of doing some of the miller's early-morning tasks for him in hopes that it might increase his favor. It was the slight rustle and commotion of Lincoln's preparations that stirred Lillian from her slumber. The door closed slightly louder today than before, just as she was rising from her bed.

With a yawn all too big for her tiny face she stood up and changed out of her sleeping attire. With fresh clothes and slight fatigue upon her she proceeded to the lavatory to rinse the sleep from her face. The invigorating feeling of the warm water on her freshly woken face was just the pick-me-up she needed.

With vigor and purpose she began to walk the house, attempting to discern which room needed her attention today. It was quite the balancing act she had to perform in order to affect any real progress with her daily cleaning. Being so sickly she did not have the energy of other girls her age and could only clean effectively for a few hours a day. Therefore it was important to make sure she kept up with the rooms they occupied most, saving other rooms for fewer cleanings. With good time-management she could clean two rooms top to bottom in a single day and still have decent energy left over to prepare some dinner.

As she walked around, contemplating which room to choose, her eyes were drawn to a room that had not seen much use at all since the death of their Great-Grandfather, the house's builder. Their Father had once told her it was the man's study. This was believable as it was filled front to back with dusty old books and scrolls rendered worthless by their esoteric subject matter. Having cleaned most of the rest of the house already, and recently so the more occupied rooms, she decided this would be today's candidate.

She crossed the threshold, rag and broom in hand, and set to work upon the old study. With vaguely practiced movements she swept up the thin layer of dust that had settled upon the floor, taking care not to breathe too much of it. After she'd piled and scooped it up she proceeded to open the window on the far wall and dumped the dust on the grass beneath. This also dispersed the dust she'd stirred up into the air.

Lillian walked over to her left, positioning herself in front of a fascinating painting on the wall between two bookshelves. While waiting for the dust to clear enough that she could remove the rag tied around her mouth and nose, she decided to have a look at the painting. It was a simple rendition of a legend as old as human history. 'The Flaming Sword in the Garden' was embossed in raised, bronze letters on the bottom of the simple wooden frame.

The title was quite fitting. A luscious garden was depicted in the background, trees and bushes with all sorts of fruit and berries on them. Grass as green as emeralds stretching far off into the horizon. A crystal clear river flowing behind a giant tree in the center of focus. A great flaming sword thrust deep into the ground, barring any from crossing it. This was indeed one of the oldest and perhaps saddest legends that still lived in the minds of the world's inhabitants.

According to the legend there was one God who created all things and he had originally intended for humanity to live in a great paradise. That paradise was this garden, all the food and water one could ever need within easy reach. No need to work or labor, no need to kill or hunt. It must have been a great place indeed.

But, as the legend goes, the first two humans angered this God somehow. So he told them to leave the garden and cast down a great sword into the earth. When it landed it came set ablaze with a living flame, barring passage back into paradise from all. From then on, after the two had left sight of the garden, the paradise disappeared from the face of the earth. At least that's how the legend went. No one was quite sure where the story came from or when it was first formed, but many such works of art dedicated to it had arisen over the centuries.

Lillian turned her gaze from the piece and looked around the room. The rays of early morning sun lit up the study and she could see the dust had either dispersed or settled. With a sigh she untied and removed the rag from her face. Folding it carefully she decided to begin the cleaning with the painting. Even if it wasn't valuable enough to sell it still meant something to her so she wanted to take care of it first. With careful motions she wiped the dust from the surface of the canvas and the frame.

Satisfied with that she moved on to the wall beneath the frame. It looked a little different now that she was seeing it up close. This section of wall seemed to be just a tad more aged than the rest for some reason, though she couldn't put her finger on it. Deciding it didn't matter she set her rag upon it and started to bear down. Yet, the wall had other ideas apparently.

Before she'd put hardly any weight on it, three panels snapped apart and almost crumbled to dust entirely. With something between a gasp and a shriek, Lillian toppled into the hole in the wall. It was just high enough that she didn't fall in entirely, instead being lodged almost as if she were leaning on her stomach. With her posterior sticking out of the wall and her feet now a few inches off the ground she gave a small grunt, positioning her elbows to lift herself out of the wall.

As she moved her arms she could feel something rigid between them in the darkness. She stopped and felt the object for a moment before continuing to push herself out. Now free of the wall she ran back to the desk near the window and opened one of the drawers on the left side. She reached in and pulled out a candlestick and a base with which to hold it along with a few matches. With jittery hands she struck a match and lit the candle.

Lillian's heart was pounding faster than it should be. She had no idea why but something felt off about all this. It almost seemed like the hole was somehow speaking to her, calling to her even. She slowly approached and peered inside, the candle peeling the darkness away like a lifting curtain.

It was indeed a box much like the one the blacksmith had given her brother, only this one was much longer and deeper. In fact the only real resemblance between the two was the make and craftsmanship of it. Even covered in dust as it was, surely many decades worth, she could still tell the skill of whomever had made it was exceptional. It was an almost obsidian-black color, a strange set of letters engraved and painted across the top.

Being the children of poor farmers neither she nor her brother had learned to read beyond the basics. This seemed funny to her sometimes considering they had such a study in their house, yet all the same the little bit she could read wouldn't let Lillian decipher what was on the box. With a twinge of disappointment, and a lot of curiosity, she wiped the dust off of it with care so as not to stir it into the air. Once she was satisfied with this she decided to lift it out and carry it into the living area to await her Brother's return home. She wrapped her little hands around the box and pulled…

It didn't budge on her first try. Its weight was far beyond what she was expecting and Lillian ended up, almost comically, smacking herself into it instead. Thankfully it wasn't hard enough to hurt her, though it certainly didn't feel good. Now knowing the box was heavier than it appeared she prepared her thin arms for the second attempt. With care not to drop the box she slowly lifted it from its resting place and carried it into the next room.

Lillian truly had no idea exactly how drastically the contents of this simple container would change their lives. Indeed, what may at first seem to be a simple coincidence is often the first step in the grand machinations of the Gods themselves. In fact, far away where it could be seen by absolutely no other, a Being of great divinity cracked a small, sly smile across its glowing face.

Ω

Lincoln trudged slowly towards home, his shoulders slumped deeply with disappointment. His plan to try and convince the miller to rehire him had completely backfired. The old man was furious that he'd already done most of the tasks for the day. He yelled at him for hours, explaining that there simply wasn't enough work to justify hiring him again, before telling him to leave and not come back. This was quite bad as news in such a small village spread very quickly. Lincoln was sure that everyone would've heard about his blunder by the day's end. So with the sun still hanging in the middle of the sky he trudged homeward.

He walked up to the front door and opened it listlessly only to be greeted by Lillian's beaming smile. Not that she didn't smile at him every time he came home but today was different. There was an almost impish look to her smile today, or perhaps playful was a better description. In either case he was curious to know what she was on about.

"You look excited." he chuckled, walking in and closing the door behind him. He went straight to the sofa and sat down with a graceless plop. In his lackluster mood, and curious over his sister's slightly off smile, he failed entirely to notice the elephant, or box as it were, in the middle of the room.

"Don't you notice something? Maybe just in front of you?" Lillian chortled.

Lincoln looked at her, puzzled, before turning his gaze to find what she was referring to. It took him only a moment to locate the large black box in the center of the table, just in front of the sofa. It nearly startled him that he'd missed such an obviously out of place object so easily.

"Where'd you find that, Lil?" he asked, a minute trace of surprise in his voice.

"Well, I was cleaning out the study," Lillian began, almost excited to recount the tale of her mysterious discovery, "and I sorta fell through the wall-"

"Are you okay?!" Lincoln asked in shock.

"Yes yes, I'm fine Brother." she reassured him, resuming her tale, "As I said, I fell through a bit of the wall under that old painting. Inside I found that box. It's kinda heavy too and I'm dying to know what's in it, but I decided to wait on you."

She flashed another of those vaguely impish smiles and sat down next to her brother, eagerly awaiting the revelation of the box's contents.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't keep you waiting. Let's have a peek, eh?" Lincoln chuckled, leaning forward to grab hold of the box. He could tell she was very excited and curious, infectiously so as it was getting to him as well.

He lifted it, noticing the distinct weight and a slight shift from within, and place it on his lap. Lillian leaned over a tad to get a better view. Lincoln's heart suddenly began to pound out of his chest. As sense of great excitement washed over him as he could that presence once again. The strange symbols on the box almost seemed to come alive and pulsate with energy. It was as if it was a beating heart calling out to him, begging him to peer within.

With a cold sweat beginning to gather upon his forehead he undid the clasp on the front of the box. With bated breath and trembling arms he wrapped his hands loosely around the lid and lifted, opening it with a groaning creak. What he beheld inside made his heart jump for some reason he would ponder for many months after.

The first thing to catch his eye was a very well-made, leather-bound book with a name he could only partially make out. The first portion of the name was that of his Great-Grandfather, a man he'd only heard about a few times throughout his life. He knew he had built the house his family had lived in for just over eighty years and he knew the man was not born in this village. Besides that he knew little else of him. So it came as somewhat of a surprise to see part of his name, accompanied with a title, on the cover of this book.

"Francis the Bold…" Lincoln muttered.

"You can read that, Brother?" Lillian cooed with a bit of awe.

"Yeah, I learned a little bit more about reading while working with Harvey."

He lifted the book and his heart flipped as he could fully make out what was under it. There sat a masterfully crafted, if somewhat plain and very dusty, broadsword. It was of a very common design, perhaps about twenty-four inches from guard to tip with a handle just big enough for one hand. The blade was about three inches wide at its base, tapering straight into a fine needle of a tip. With a puff he blew the dust off to reveal the true, off-silvery hue of the blade. Even at a glance it was clear how deadly sharp it still was.

The handle, though small and humble, was equally well made. It was wrapped in what felt like soft cow-leather, a bronze chain curling around it. The bottom of the pommel seemed to have once had an inscription on it, though this was rendered illegible by the many scratches and dings that told of its use in combat. Its hilt was properly crowned with a straight cross guard of exceedingly simple design. Being little more than a thin piece of sturdy, marred steel that had clearly weathered many blows and parries. The weight of the blade overall was very well balanced, something his time with Harvey had taught him to feel.

Lincoln stared intently at the blade. It seemed to gaze at him in return, almost singing a haunting exhortation to combat and adventure. Lillian was unfortunately deaf to the song and simply watched her brother gaze intently upon the sword now held in his softly shaking hands.

"Brother… are you okay?" came Lillian's soft voice, snapping him from the trance.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm alright." he muttered with a trace of nervousness across his face.

"Hey, there's something else in there." she said, pointing a tiny finger at a small ring.

Small being a reference to the finger it originally sat upon. When Lincoln picked up the ring it was clearly too big to even fit around his thumb. It was a simple gold band, akin to a wedding ring, with the exception of a small engraving on the inside. Lincoln brought the ring close to his eyes to try and read it but it was no use. He couldn't recognize the characters of the word. So with a sigh of disappointment he set the ring back in the box and placed the sword over top of it.

"What do you think this was doing in the wall, eh Lil?" Lincoln asked, turning towards his sister.

"I have no idea where to start thinking of an answer." she groaned, leaning back and closing her eyes, "But I am sure that book could give us a clue. Think you can read it, Brother?"

Lincoln picked the book up once more and took a closer look at it. He could make out the name on the cover and that it was a journal. It apparently belonged to one "Francis the Bold". The cover felt quite old and looked the part as well. He ran a finger gently along the cover and the spine, feeling the many wrinkles and scratches of repeated use.

Opening it his jaw gradually began to drop open in complete and utter shock…

Ψ

 _To whoever finds my blade and my journal I ask that you read it throughout. Though you owe neither commitment nor bond I ask that you read this and consider my request._

 _I have taken up the name Ansley as there are many who envied and hated me, enough that I feared not for my own life but for those I loved. I faked my death and took up this named to run like a coward instead of facing my enemies. I left my pride and my honor at the maw of that horrid pit, hiding myself under cover of night and stealing away. Though I stand by my decision, for the sake of my love, I would ask that whoever you are you would take up my mantle. I beseech you stranger to lift up this blade as I once did and find that which I left behind in that fetid, living abyss._

 _My name now is Francis Ansley, but I was once Francis Grisham known as Francis the Bold. Please read my tale and reclaim my mantle._


	3. Interlude - Francis the Bold

Author's Note:

Upon inspection of the Wikia concerning DanMachi I was unable to find a proper chronology system. Therefore I have taken it upon myself to fabricate one for the sake of this Interlude. I'll explain it in brief:

Tempore de Deorum, meaning 'In the Time of the Gods,' is my chosen terminology. The counter represents the time since the Gods came down from Tenkai to live among the Children. I have split the year into four equal quarters to forego the effort of fabricating twelve months from scratch. They are Freeze, Thaw, Heat and Harvest. Each is ninety days long and the New Year starts on the 46th of Freeze.

Please tolerate my sloppy chronology system.

Interlude

Francis the Bold

1st of Harvest, 908th Tempore de Deorum,

My name is Francis Grisham and I have come to the Labyrinthine City to seek fame and fortune. This is my first day and I have decided to keep a journal to detail my legendary exploits for posterity! Yes, one day the entire world will know my name!

15th of Harvest, 908th Tempore de Deorum,

No luck as yet trying to find a Familia. I went to the famous ones first so I'm not too surprised they turned me down. They must get a lot of applicants. Either way it's their loss. Once I get a blessing and conquer this dungeon they'll all be begging me to switch for them!

20th of Harvest, 908th Tempore de Deorum,

Decided to sign as a free adventurer today. People were telling me, "Good luck dead man," and "Rest in peace," as I left the Guild. Even my new advisor said it was stupid of me. I probably would've been angrier if she wasn't so damn cute. Bah, those fools have no idea what I can do. I'll carve a swath through that pit all by myself. They'll see, they'll all see!

21st of Harvest, 908th Tempore de Deorum,

It's my first day going into the dungeon and my hand shivers with excitement as I pen these words. I've heard the monsters are fierce but I'm sure they'll be no match for me!

29th of Harvest, 908th Tempore de Deorum,

The guild finally discharged me from the clinic today. I'm not 100% yet but at least I'm away from that nagging advisor. Honestly I wish she weren't so damn gorgeous, maybe I could've brought myself to yell back at her.

In any case, I was injured pretty badly after running into a pass parade. Those idiots, those cowards! Running from a measly twelve kobolds! I killed them all and collected my well-earned drops, but one of them managed to gouge my side pretty good apparently. I didn't even realize it until the Guild exchange lady passed out when I walked up to her desk. Didn't seem like that much blood to me.

Why's everyone in this goddamn city so weak and fearful?

43rd of Harvest, 908th Tempore de Deorum,

I went down to the third floor today. It isn't so different from the others so far, just a longer walk. Nearly killed too much today, almost couldn't carry all my loot back myself. The bag I've been using is starting to wear down on me. Should probably replace it soon.

45th of Harvest, 908th Tempore de Deorum,

Well, my bag broke today. I ended up using my shirt as a makeshift sack to haul my loot back up. Was entirely worth it though! After today's pull I've saved up a little over twenty-thousand vals! I still have a ways to go before I reach my goal though, so I'm going to be putting all my thoughts and effort into the Dungeon!

21st of Freeze, 908th Tempore de Deorum,

Just remembered I haven't written in my journal for almost two months. The season has already passed and the cold is setting in. I think the Dungeon might actually feel it too.

I saw a group of adventurers today on the lower sixth. They were running from some killer ants. I joined in the fray when they got cornered down a long hallway. They had a cute little prum with them.

The poor girl. Those damned cowards kicked her into the group of ants and ran off through the opening I'd made. I tried to help her, oh Gods how I tried! I lost a finger, my left pinky, trying to carve through those bastards as quickly as I could. It was no use though.

I buried what was left of her. I'm going to find those cowards…

55th of Freeze, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

The new-year has come and gone and still I have no Familia. These idiot Gods and Goddesses are starting to piss me off good. I'm starting to think I might just do this without one of their stupid blessings. Thus far I've managed to fend off ten killer ants at once on the seventh floor. No blessing to help me there. I've pulled together nearly forty-thousand vals now and am going to be purchasing some armor I've had my eye on. Just a simple set for my legs and a nice, heavy guard for my left arm.

May the Gods choke on their blessings…

33rd of Thaw, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I lost my journal for these last two months. I'm so busy with all the dungeon diving and training. Oh yes, I managed to find someone who agreed to train me in combat. His methods are pretty tough but it's nothing worse than my masters in the military. My purse may be thirty-thousand vals lighter but I can feel the difference every time I enter the dungeon. It's quite amazing what some reinforcements in the basics and a few extra techniques can do for your confidence.

I also had a Goddess actually offer me a place in her Familia today. I wish I could draw the look on her face when I spit on the ground in front of her. They can take those blessings and shove them back up whatever hole they please! I'm done worrying after their fickle whims.

35th of Thaw, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

Today is my birthday. I'm seventeen now, and I've received quite the present from the rumor mill. Apparently that Goddess from the other day was on her way to something called the Denatus where they select titles for their little pawns. Also I seem to be somewhat well known around the city now. So I'm guessing it's due to these facts that I now have my own title and I think those pinhead Gods are trying to mock me with it.

I'm now known by the Gods as Francis the Bold. It's kinda neat.

40th of Thaw, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I decided to go have a look around some of the stores in Babel Tower today. Found out that some of those shops have things from Hephaestus Familia that isn't priced like a damned mansion. I picked up a nice little buckler that fit perfectly over my left arm guard. I also spotted a gorgeous flamberge and managed to convince the shopkeeper to hold onto it for me. Its total price was 200,000 valis and I made a down payment of 25,000. At this rate I'll have it purchased by the start of Heat.

70th of Thaw, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I spent four hours today being fussed at by my advisor, whose name I just have been able to remember. Pritchett spent four hours lecturing me on how insane I am to spend an entire week camping on the seventh floor. Apparently I'm entirely unreasonable for filling up an entire cart with magic stones and drops so I could purchase something I really want. Apparently really wanting money isn't a good enough reason to risk your life. Apparently I now have a date in two weeks because she likes the forward type…

After she'd screamed at me that it was frivolous to risk my life earning money for something just because I wanted it, I asked her, "Well, what if I spend some of that money on my future? Like maybe taking out a pretty lady such as yourself so I can get to know her better?" With that little outburst I now have myself a date with perhaps the most irritating woman working for the Guild.

84th of Thaw, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

It was actually quite pleasant. The date went fairly smoothly and I've learned Ms. Yllium isn't such a nasty woman after all. She seems to care an awful lot about the fate and wellbeing of myself and my fellow moronic coworkers.

If I'm not careful I could fall for this woman…

90th of Thaw, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

Went down to the eighth floor today and ran into a large group of monsters. Seventeen in total: four kobolds, six goblins, three ants and four war shadows. I nearly died but it was totally worth it. I may be laying in a Guild clinic bed but my savings just topped 120,000 vals. Thankfully it seems Pritchett hasn't heard of my little adventure yet. I don't think my present headache could handle that lecture…

17th of Heat, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I finally have it! Titanic is mine! It was so much money to part with all at once, but she's all mine now! The absolutely stunning red blade is sharp as a razor! Why, I even managed to shave my arms with it…

Oh, the Dungeon isn't going to have a clue what hit it. I may have spent every val I had to my name but I'll earn it all back soon, and then some!

76th of Heat, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I lost my journal again but I almost don't care. Everything has been happening so fast lately my head is spinning like a top. Why, I turned down offers from five different Familia today!

The name of Francis the Bold is on the tip of every tongue these days. Everyone knows of the adventurer who, with no blessing and no party, just overtook the tenth floor. I said I'd become famous and I'm making good on my word.

Once again: may those pompous Gods choke on their blessings.

85th of Heat, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I nearly had to fight to defend Pritchett today. We were accosted by a group of adventurers that thought a no-blessing chump like me had no right to date such a lovely woman. Well, they thought that until one of them attacked me and I cut his claymore in two. They seemed to think better of me after that as they ran away, with much soggier pants I might add!

2nd of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

It's been a year now. I've been in Orario, adventuring in the Dungeon, for an entire year now. I can hardly believe it…

23rd of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I reached the 12th floor today and ran across that group of adventurers, the ones that left that poor little prum to die. They had no idea who I was so I managed to convince them to break for lunch with me. After a time they recognized me by my title but had no idea that I was the one who'd saved them from those ants. They had no clue I'd watched that poor girl get torn apart because they were too cowardly to stand and fight.

We talked and joked and laughed for a good hour. Then I asked them if they ever thought about the little prum girl. I asked em if they thought she might've enjoyed this meal, safe and sound with the people she trusted to protect her. I asked them if they ever considered how bad it must've hurt when those ants tore her limb from limb.

Oh it was so beautiful the way the joy melted from their faces and was slowly replaced with guttural fear! Hah! I loved it!

The first one was just a little too slow to grab for his sword. His head reached it before his hands. The elf woman was also just a little too slow to notch an arrow. I wonder if she even felt my blade split her in two?

Finally the dwarf. Oh, he was quite the tough little cookie. Quick and strong but alas, just a little too slow for me. I managed to outstep him and plunge Titanic through his side just under the left armpit. That expression on his face was wonderful!

I hope the sorry shits rot in hell for their cowardice. I hope the ants choke on their fetid carcasses. I left them where they fell, didn't even touch their stuff. May someone else find use of it.

Gods, what's happening to me?

24th of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

Pritchett is a wonderful woman. She's so kind and understanding. I think I may actually be falling for her…

I didn't go to the dungeon today. At least, not to make money. I went to that prum's grave to lay some flowers on it but I couldn't find it. I looked all over and it was nowhere to be found.

Saddened I returned to the surface when she called to me. She asked me why I wasn't exchanging my haul for money so I told her I'd gone to lay flowers on a grave in the dungeon. When she told me the reason no-one's ever buried in the Dungeon, apparently because the Dungeon will pretty much eat the grave, I fell apart. It was so odd, I mean I didn't even know her. But the feeling of helplessness and failure, the knowledge that even my best efforts couldn't save the poor girl, tore me apart inside.

I tried to walk away but Pritchett followed me. She followed me all the way back to the old rundown church I've been staying in. She just wouldn't go away, constantly asking me what was bothering me.

I told her everything. Every last detail. I waited for what felt like ages, staring at the ground, before she pulled me into a tight hug. She really is something…

25th of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

Pritchett kept me company through the night. I wish I could say something manlier happened but honestly I just cried most of the night away. Didn't even realize how much I was holding a grudge against those adventurers. Needless to say really, but my little bit of sleep was tormented by them. A curse on their souls.

I think I'm going to take a little break from the dungeon…

31st of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

Pritchett took some time off her job today and came by to see me. She caught me a little off guard just dropping in out of nowhere. It was nice though. We sat around and talked for a bit then went to get a bite to eat at a little café the next street over. She's really cute when she smiles…

33rd of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I've been thinking about what I'm doing here. I wanted to join a big Familia and become famous and powerful. I've burnt that bridge down though. I doubt there's a God or Goddess that would even consider me at this point. Doesn't bother me though, they can all rot.

But still I'm here. I have some pretty nice gear and I'm doing pretty well on my own. I'm even pretty well known at this point.

So why can't I shake this eerie feeling? It's like there's something more I should be doing…

35th of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I had a little fit today. Ended up breaking a piece off the statue out front. It's a statue of a Goddess. At least I think it is. She's missing half of her face now, though. I got really angry and threw my tankard. Good aim…

Still haven't gone back to the Dungeon. It's been ten days now and I can feel it in my sword-arm. I just can't bring myself to go back there yet. It's really starting to drive me nuts. I mean, why am I so torn up about that prum? I didn't know her at all. I've seen a lot of good people die before her. I spent three goddamn years serving in the army for that idiot king…

What the hell is wrong with me?

36 Harvest,

Got realy drunk toda. Prichet dragd me home fussed fr n our. Cute but so nosee…

37th of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I have a stupid hangover today and I'm really thinking about tearing out these last few pages. Bah! Posterity deserves the full story I guess…

In other news I haven't slept a full night since slaughtering those fetid cowards. I think it might be starting to wear on my sanity some. The dreams are so vivid. I don't regret it. Well, maybe I do regret killing them too quickly…

I'll be going back into the Dungeon tomorrow. I'll take this nuttiness out on some goblins, just to play it safe. I haven't slept much so that's probably best.

38th of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I just realized I've been writing a lot in this journal lately. I've filled up about a third of the pages now.

In any case, I did go into the dungeon today. Not sure how many things I killed cause I lost count around fifty. Just got into a mood and started slaughtering anything that wasn't another adventurer. Got all the way down to the seventh floor before I got a hold of myself. I'm sure I made some others very happy cause I left everything behind. Didn't pick up a single magic stone.

I might break down and pray for a good night of sleep, I'm certainly tired enough for one.

42nd of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

No idea how but this stupid book managed to get sandwiched behind the dusty old dresser in my room under the church. Found the damned thing just a few minutes ago.

I saw Pritchett again today. She seemed honestly happy to see me. We had some fun just walking around the alley in front of the church. I never stopped to notice how nice it is around here. It seems like the place has a whole different feel to it when she's around. I almost miss her now that she's gone home.

I think I may be in love…

45th of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I'm getting ready to try and camp on the tenth floor. I have my cart set up and I'm going to push for two weeks. Pritchett's going to go nuts when she finds out but I have something I have to do. I have to get stronger, I can feel it in my gut, so I'm leaving my journal behind. I have no idea what's pushing me but I have my flame back. I'm going to become the most famous, strongest adventurer ever or die trying!

79th of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I've really done it now.

Spent my two weeks like I planned. Filled up my cart too. It went just like I planned it until I got back to the seventh floor. Decided to be lazy and try a shortcut to save some time getting back. That was a wonderful idea!

It cost me my left arm when two war shadows ambushed me. I took the first one down just fine but my balance was off. The second licked me good, took the arm from just past my pit. I really have no idea how I'm alive. I killed it and figured I was as good as dead. Guess there's some silly God watching over me though. I was apparently brought back from the brink by a kindly group. They even dropped off my dumb ass at the guild clinic. Pretty sure I can be considered a regular customer here at this point.

They took my drops and stones as payment I suppose, but that's ok. I count myself lucky, despite the straight week of lectures from Pritchett, to still be breathing. I'll be damned if this is the end of my career though. Just another week until they discharge me!

Not quite sure how I'm going to handle Titanic just yet with only one arm…

86th of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I came home to an odd surprise. The cart I'd taken into the Dungeon with me was waiting for me just outside the church. Empty but there. When I went inside I found the entire contents dumped in what I thought was my 'secret' room under the church. It's a little unnerving but I'm relieved all my work wasn't for naught.

I'm tuckered out so I'll load it up and exchange the haul tomorrow. Can't wait to sleep in my own bed again…

87th of Harvest, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

150,000 valis! It was 150,000! I can't even believe it, I had to bring it all home in gold bars instead of coins!

I'm going to see if I can get myself a guard for my right arm. Not gonna spare any expenses either. Might even get some training to learn to use Titanic with my one arm.

21st of Freeze, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

It's been a while so I figured I may as well write something down.

I just took a little break from my training today. Got the same guy to let me spar with him using a blunted claymore. It's been going pretty well despite the obvious difficulties. My custom armguard is nearly done too, so that's good.

Ah, I decided to make a little marker for the prum. Seems the fixation hasn't left my system yet but oh well. It's in a little spot behind the church where the cobblestone has either been ripped up or worn away. I left some flowers on it and said a little prayer, though I doubt the Gods care to hear anything I say.

I'm getting busier by the day with all the preparations to reenter the Dungeon. I may not write for a while.

45th of Freeze, 909th Tempore de Deorum,

I talked Pritchett into taking New Year's off last week. It's probably about five in the morning but I just couldn't sleep. I really must be in love at this point, I'm so damned giddy. Gods I feel like a moron…

46th of Freeze, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

I'm in love, completely in love. There's no way around admitting it so I'm going to pen it down undeniably for posterity. I, Francis the Bold, am madly smitten with Pritchett Yllium!

We spent yesterday together just walking around Amour Square then went to see a beautiful fireworks show when night fell. After that we found our way to this old bell tower. Not sure how, we just wandered around like two love-struck idiots and ended up there. So on a whim I knocked down the door and we climbed to the top. I think I might be a bad influence on her.

The view at the top was gorgeous, I want to stress this. Yet I don't remember a bit of the detail. We took in the sight and I looked her in the eye. It was magical. Then, and I have no idea what overtook me, I pulled her to me and kissed her. Must've been a minute at least. Her lips are so soft…

55th of Freeze, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

I've been going into the Dungeon like a madman. My savings gets fatter every day and my confidence is coming back to me. I'm a driven man. Forget the Gods, forget the city, forget the fame and damn it all!

I've decided I'm going to ask Pritchett to marry me when the time is right. Not exactly sure how long I'm going to wait but when I feel it's right I plan to have a house and a nice ring for her.

Look out Dungeon, Francis the Bold has new purpose!

77th of Freeze, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

Pritchett talked me into hiring a free supporter today. Apparently she's been looking for one behind my back for nearly four months! Gods, I love her.

He's a nice enough guy and seems pretty trustworthy. It's a little scary how closely he resembles me though… Oh well, I'm sure he'll be useful.

78th of Freeze, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

I hate adventurers! I hate the Gods! I hate the damned Guild!

I have no idea where to start. I wasn't even planning to write today, but this is unbelievable! Maybe I'm just dimwitted, maybe it's because I don't talk to many people, or maybe it's because I don't adventure with a party. Who knows? I certainly don't.

Apparently supporters are less than people because they don't fight. Apparently it's ok to abuse your lesser. Apparently it's alright to steal from someone because they're weaker than you. What is wrong with people?!

The poor guy was astounded I didn't hit him after letting him know, in a passing comment mind you, that he was slowing me down just a little. He nearly walked off after we'd exchanged the haul at the guild, thinking I would insist on keeping it all to myself! It took me a goddamned hour to explain to him that I have a differing set of morals. I've signed a long-term contract with him so hopefully that's the end of that mess.

I will kill any adventurer I see treating another person like that just because they don't lift a sword…

3rd of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

I think Paul's finally gotten used to my way of doing things. The guy is a Godsend! Now that we've gotten in sync and worked out a good game plan the vals are flowing in like a river. We just returned from two weeks on floor twelve!

We took a larger cart than I've been using. He's pretty damn strong, though it did take us two days to make the trek back with the cart so full. We made one hell of a team though. I can concentrate on guarding while he just does the hauling. We split the 180,000 val haul evenly. I thought he was going to pass out when I handed him the pile of gold bars.

Now that I know we can do this so efficiently I think I'm going to try for a month down there, split across two back-to-back trips.

5th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

Preparations have been decided on and our month long trip has been set. Paul and I have decided to take a week to get our affairs in order and gather up supplies. My math isn't all that good but I think we should be able to count on around 200,000 or more in profit after this. We're each putting 25,000 into supplies and the repairs on my equipment shouldn't go much over 20,000. I'm going to tell Pritchett about it soon as I can work up the courage.

This is my test. If this all goes smoothly I'm asking for her hand. I may not have the house yet but I'll know it's not far away at least.

8th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

I spent the last three days teaching Paul a little bit about evasive maneuvering. He has no aptitude for swordplay but Gods can he run. He's learned a few rolls and dodges pretty well now so he should be able to escape if we get in a pinch. I just hope he can get it through his head that I care more about his life than our loot.

On another note I've decided to tell Pritchett tomorrow. Here's hoping it goes well…

9th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

Well I'm at a total loss for words. Seems she loves me too. I was sure she liked me but wow. I'm glad it's mutual. I'm really glad she confessed first. Never thought I'd be so lily-livered about it.

I'm coming back alive.

12th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

Today's the day. Spent a few more days going over escape plans with Paul and I think he gets my vibe. This might actually work out completely according to plan. We're going to leave for the surface at the two week mark to exchange our loot and drop it off before heading right back in. It may not be a straight month but it should still be a good test of our limits.

I'm bringing my journal just in case. Never know if you might have something interesting to write down.

29th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

We ended up staying a little longer than planned, though I'm pleased to say that nothing of particular interest happened. We came back up on the 28th and exchanged our haul. Ended up having to buy some extra potions but we did manage to get back down here in good time. Today's day one of the second half of this endeavor.

Have been hearing some strange noises. I wonder if it's coming from that Familia that went on expedition before us. Hopefully it's nothing…

34th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

I must be something else. Surely there's a God or something watching over me. There's no other way to explain it, there really isn't.

We were awoken to the sound of screaming this morning. An adventurer had run across our camp and was frantically trying to wake us. I don't think he knew that I don't have a blessing when he asked me, but it doesn't matter. He was from the Familia that began their expedition shortly before we came down. He didn't explain it all but somehow they'd been chased back up by a Minotaur. He managed to slip away on the fifteenth floor and ran looking for help. Guess I'm the first he came across.

It was a hell of a run but we managed to get to them. Three of the five he left were still alive but they were in no condition to keep fighting. I really just wanted to distract the thing so they could get away, then make a break for it myself. Seems the morons were too awestruck to run upon seeing a one-armed man going toe-to-toe with a Minotaur.

It was one hell of a fight, let me tell you. No help from the dumbstruck either. Nope, I had to fight that thing alone. I really wish I could recall exactly how I did it, I'm sure the fight was monumental to behold. Either way though, that Minotaur is dead and they're alive. And so am I somehow…

Needless to say we're heading back up tomorrow after I've had a rest.

37th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

I haven't been able to get a moment's peace since returning to the surface. It's been a constant parade of admirers and jealous idiots pestering me to tell my story. Those blasted idiots wasted no time telling what I'd done. What's more is they were apparently fairly well known themselves. Now everyone's talking about the no-blessing that killed a Minotaur singlehandedly. The irony of the remark is not lost on me either.

I wanted fame but I had no idea it would be like this. Poor ole Paul must be having at least as much trouble as me. Jeez, this city can be such a pain…

40th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

I tried to take Pritchett on a date today and something pretty odd happened. An entire Familia followed us into the restaurant and surrounded us. Their Goddess stepped up and looked me over head-to-toe. After a minute or so of this creepy display she just scoffed and walked away. They all had quite a murderous look in their eye.

I really hope this isn't something to be worried about.

45th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

Paul and I were headed for the dungeon today when I saw a group of guys had surrounded Pritchett in an alleyway just inside West Main. I told Paul to go on ahead. After he'd left I stepped in and beat down two of the perpetrators. The other four ran off. She was okay but what she told me they were saying has really got me worried now.

According to these guys, being around me is bad for her health. Seems they don't think a no-blessing should be able to do the things I can and they plan to 'teach me a lesson.' This is getting out of hand…

I caught up to Paul and we scrapped today's Dungeon dive.

46th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

I went to see Pritchett today, before she got to work. I've asked her to meet me in my room under the church once I get back from the dungeon. Seems she agrees that something bad is going on. I'm going to ask her to run away with me. I'm sure I can handle whatever these idiots wanna do to me but I can't stand the thought of her getting hurt. I'm going down there for three days and she knows when to expect me. I told her to go hide in a little abandoned cottage just outside the city wall if I'm late.

Gods I really hope this is all in our imagination…

50th of Thaw, 910th Tempore de Deorum,

This is the last of the story of Francis the Bold. This is my last entry as the most famous no-blessing in Orario. Yes, this is the last entry because Francis now lies dead on the fifteenth floor.

Paul and I went down as planned. Can't stop working just because you're paranoid eh? Well, it all fell apart as we were headed back up. Day three, just like we'd planned. That's when they ambushed us. Four adventurers, must have been level two by the way they fought. They were each as fierce as that damned cow. I held my own against them for a time but we ended up having to retreat.

They chased us down to the fifteenth floor and blocked off our escape. We managed to hide for a while but they finally found us. I managed to kill one but all the commotion attracted a large group of monsters and the other three ran off, leaving us for dead. Paul was already injured. The poor sod didn't stand a chance. Surrounded, I managed to fight off the monsters. None of this makes any logical sense. I should've died there with Paul. They ripped him to pieces but I managed to live. I killed everything and managed to survive.

I've decided it's best if Francis the Bold dies here. With a heavy heart I tore off my gear and left it strewn around the room, smeared in the dead adventurer's blood. I then thrust Titanic deep into a nearby wall. I'm sure once the others come back to look for my corpse and see this they'll assume I'm done for.

Once I've penned the last of this I'm going to meet Pritchett at that cottage. We'll leave this cursed city and find a place to live in some semblance of peace. Somewhere the name of Francis the Bold is entirely unknown.

May the Gods remaining above have mercy on my soul for being the cause of all this…

83rd of Heat, 933rd Tempore de Deorum,

I haven't so much as thought about this old book even once these last two decades. Gods, it all seems like such a distant memory. What a nightmare it all turned out to be. I'll just leave a little more in case someone eventually finds this.

I married Pritchett. We settled in a little village at the foot of a beautiful mountain range. I built us a house with my own hand and we now have a wonderful, healthy son to look after. Life's been good to us since leaving that nightmare city. I don't miss it at all.

To whoever finds this journal, I bid you a fond farewell. Francis Ansley, as I'm now known, has found a good place to finish up his life. And if you decide to heed my request to seek my mantle then I wish you luck. Don't let that horrid city do to you what it did to me…


	4. I Will Trust You

Chapter 3

I Will Trust You

Φ

Lincoln clutched the book in his quivering hands, his wrists beginning to ache at the pressure of his grip. He'd sat there on the sofa, his sister peering over his shoulder, for the last five hours nearly. It was unusual for him to be this still for such a length of time. Yet in the face of such a revelation it was unavoidable. Even though Lillian couldn't read all the contents of the book herself, she'd picked up enough to get the gist of it. This left her in a nearly equal state of shock.

Stories of the Dungeon City were commonplace no matter where in the world you'd been born. Tales of brave adventurers pledging themselves to the Gods that walk among us to brave the depths of the great, monster-birthing Labyrinth. Every man, woman and child across the face of the planet knew of this profession. Every breathing person knew of its insane potential for great wealth and fame. Everyone also knew of its equally great potential to end your life in the blink of an eye.

To find evidence long hidden away of one such adventurer in your own family might have been some degree of a shock on its own, but this was so much more. To learn that you were kin to a mighty hero that had braved the Labyrinth without the aid of a God's blessing was nearly unbelievable. It was enough to shake your very view of the world to its core. Such power of will, such might of the flesh, was nigh inconceivable. Indeed it was enough to sit still the ever-moving, ever-working Lincoln Ansley, leaving him dumbstruck at a revelation he found himself troubled to believe.

He had been told stories of his Great Grandfather in passing. A great and strong man, much akin to an oak tree in his apparent resolve. Lincoln knew that his family did not originate from here. He knew the one-armed man had arrived rather mysteriously and purchased the plot of land they'd been living on for over eighty years. He knew that the man had built this lovely home himself and left it to his progeny. Yet no one had ever mentioned anything this amazing about the man. It was rightfully questionable, based on what was just read, if any of his children even knew this much of him.

"Brother…" Lillian's words snapped him from his thoughts, "Are we kin to a monster?"

This question might have made Lincoln giggle a bit under other circumstances, but with this news in his hands he almost wanted to answer with a yes.

"I don't know what any of this means about us." Lincoln replied, his own thoughts scrambling to make any possible sense of this, "Maybe this is the answer I've been looking for though, Lil."

This last statement was barely more than a whisper. Indeed it was merely a thought that had managed to just barely escape its master's lips. Lillian's sensitive ears caught it though, sending a sudden sense of dread through her tiny frame.

"Wha- What do you mean, Brother?" she questioned.

"Maybe this is the sign I've been praying for." Lincoln began, his eyes almost glazed over with deep contemplation, "I mean, I've considered it in passing before but I always figured I had no place in a profession like this…"  
Once more he looked at the book clutched tightly in his hands. Once more he glanced to the sword sitting snuggly in the box on his lap. He took in these sights and for the first time in his life honestly considered the thought of trying to be an adventurer. It wasn't strange in all honesty. After all, what kid didn't dream of exploring the depths of a living dungeon, heroes to either side of him? What child didn't dream of becoming rich and famous by slaying horrid critters? What child had never imagined being in the presence of a living, breathing God and swearing fealty to a purpose beyond themselves?

"Brother, you can't be serious…" Lillian giggled nervously, "I mean, if that book is even half true then just imagine the danger…"

"Yeah, I know. But even sti-" Lincoln didn't manage to finish his thought before a sudden outburst from his sister stopped him dead in his tracks.

"I can't let you go again!" Lillian screamed at the top of her lungs, her eyes on the verge of tears, "You can't seriously be thinking about going somewhere like that! You can't honestly think I'd ever be okay with you laying your life on the line for money!"

She leapt up from the sofa and stood in front of him. In one swift motion Lillian swept her foot into the air, knocking the book clean out of Lincoln's hands and across the room. Her entire body shook with the fury tears her eyes would not be able to hold back much longer. Her emerald-green eyes stared intensely at the bewildered man on the couch, an intensity he'd never witnessed burning behind the gloss.

Her very being shook with every heaving breath. He'd never seen her like this before and had no idea how to react. Yet he was not surprised. Lincoln knew his sister was a very caring type, always so concerned with the myriad burdens she seemed to lay upon those she cared about. He stood up slowly, Lillian taking a step back in reflexive response. He looked her in the eyes for but a moment before grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"It's ok, Lil." he whispered, "I'm not going to leave you all alone."

That was all it took. The weakened dam within her eyes, struggling to hold back a torrent of tears, could hold no more. Lillian began to sob so loudly it can only be compared to the screams of some horrid death. All the emotion held back since the passing of her parents, all the loneliness and worry while living with the cousin, all of it. It all came flooding out as she wailed in her brother's arms.

"Forget all about it, Lil. Just forget about it and know I'm not going anywhere."

Oh she wanted to believe, so much so she wanted to believe. But still the tears flowed like a river for an hour longer.

Ω

Lincoln had been unable to leave Lillian alone the entire night after her breakdown. She'd been so shaken after he'd managed to calm her somewhat that she refused to sleep alone. Therefore, being the faithful brother he was, Lincoln had sat in a chair next to her bed all night. At first she wouldn't even let go of his hand, but eventually sleep had overtaken her. So he continued to sit there, watching over his sister's restless slumber, just in case he was needed.

Now the sun was beginning to peak just over the mountains, casting the faintest rays of dawn through the window. With eyes leaden by fatigue, Lincoln glared angrily at the source of the light. He'd not slept a wink the entire night yet he got himself up anyways. Now that morning was just around the corner he felt sure enough that she could sleep soundly without his presence. He turned to look her way once more, feeling guilty for causing her to have such a breakdown, before leaving the room.

He walked directly to the bathroom to wash off his face. The water was a welcome refreshment after such an emotionally intense night. It was entirely unexpected to see his sister react in such a way. He let the water splashing across his face wash the worries away with the grime of the previous day.

With a satisfied sigh he grabbed a nearby towel and dried his face before leaving the bathroom. He planned to evaluate their finances this morning and try to formulate some sort of plan for moving forward. Though he hadn't logged everything into a ledger of any sort he knew their supply of money was running dangerously short. This weighed heavily on his mind.

Lincoln walked softly as he could through the house, turning the corner to enter the living room. He considered it a blessing that Lillian usually slept a few hours longer than he. It allowed him to more easily conceal his skipping of meals from her, a fact which would've undoubtedly led to further worry on her part. It didn't bother him though to forgo a little bit of nourishment to cut some costs from their budget.

He sat down on the sofa and stared quietly at the box on the table in front of him. Forgetting about the finances he instead glared intently at the sword, pondering everything he'd read in Francis' journal. He wondered if a mere human could actually accomplish such feats. Perhaps the man was simply very fond of embellishment. Perhaps something was amiss in the recordings of the journal.

He thought carefully on these things as a small figure gradually crept upon him, completely unnoticed. He just sat there and stared at the sword, wondering if it was even worth considering such a foolhardy path for their lives. He knew Lillian had a point, it would be unimaginably dangerous. Especially with his hands as finicky as they were. He knew he couldn't leave Lillian alone to fend for herself. He knew she couldn't.

"I'm sorry, brother…" came a small, soft voice, just barely above a whisper.

Lincoln leapt to his feet in surprise, spinning around to see Lillian standing just a foot or two behind the sofa. Her hands lay rigidly at her side, grasping a handful of her dress. Her mind was clearly troubled by the look on her face but it did not look as though she was as bad off as the previous night.

"You startled me, Lil. Are you okay?" Lincoln asked, not even trying to hide the concern in his voice.

"I'm okay now…" she began before trailing off into deep thought. Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she looked over to the sword. The intensity with which she stared at it seemed to border on hate.

"I'm sorry I even mentioned it, Lil." Lincoln said, trying to avert her attention from the blade and the previous night's conversation.

"Brother, I trust in you more than anything." Lillian interrupted, biting her lip in hesitation before she continued, "Do you… Do you really think it's an idea worth considering?"

Lincoln's face washed over with shame. He looked to the sword as well, contemplating a response. He'd thought about it the whole night while sitting by her bed. He'd truly considered the idea of adventuring for the first time in his life. It was quite possibly the most dangerous thing he could do and the risk of leaving Lillian alone nearly made him abandon the idea altogether. But as things stood he could find no work here and their funds were quickly running dry.

"I can't see much other choice." He responded, very flatly, turning to face Lillian once more.

"There's always another choice, brother." Her response was nearly a whisper, almost as if she didn't even believe it herself.

"We're almost out of money and you need medicine about as much as food. Our only other real choice is to give up and die."

His tone shook her to the core. She knew exactly what was on the line if he couldn't find any work. Lillian's gaze returned to her brother's, locking eyes with him in a very trusting manner.

"You're a good man. You really are…" She sighed as a small smile crept across her face.

"Lil, I can't see any other real choice. Please understand that."

Lincoln paused for a moment to catch his thoughts as well as his breath. His chest felt tight as he considered the very real consequences his next few words might have. He knew his sister trusted him implicitly and he could play that to his advantage if this path was what he felt was best. However he also knew that, as it stood, he was her only real lifeline left in this world. If he talked her into this there was a very real possibility they could both end up dead anyways. Him somewhere in the dungeon and her God knows how else. The pressure was a quickly building strain on his heart.

"I think this is our best chance, Lil." He finally resumed his reply, "There's no work for me in this village. I can't promise you it'll work out but I can promise on my life that I'll try to make it work."

Lincoln stared into her eyes with all the fervor of one pledging themselves to a life of service. He prepared to bare his heart before her and swear his life away to the pursuit of a comfortable life for her sake. However, her own words came before he could put his together.

"Brother, if you think this is best then I will trust you. No matter what."

Lillian grinned as widely as she could force her face to. It was a very forced grin but it held all the same emotion of the real thing behind it. Her honesty and trust could be clearly seen by the demeanor of this forced smile. Forced in the sense that she was terrified and wanted to breakdown as she had the previous night. Forced in the sense that she would not allow herself to be any more of a burden.

Yes, this is what she had decided. Whatever her brother deemed to be the best course of action is what she would follow. It was all she could do to be behind him and push him forward wherever he felt they should go. Therefore she smiled as wide as she could to let him know she would back up his decisions with all her might.

"Lillian…" was all he could mutter, not sure of how to handle himself at this very moment.

"Like I said, brother," she replied, stepping around the sofa and walking closer to him, "I trust your decision, whatever it is. That's all I can do for you."

"Then I'll give everything I have not to let you down, Lil." Lincoln said, his demeanor relaxing somewhat.

"Thank you, brother." She said, stepping up and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

Lincoln responded in kind, patting her lightly on the head.

"We'll be alright so long as we have each other." He replied, assuring himself as much as her.

ϕ

They spent the next few days discussing how to get together enough money to make the trip to Orario. By all accounts the safest way there was to hire a carriage, just as Lincoln's former Master had done. It was a trip of easily a few thousand kilometers. The roads were also fairly dangerous so it was best to be in a group with guards. This would help to deter attacks by bandits or the few wild monsters that roamed the land.

They pulled together an idea of how much it would take to contract such services. Yet they could not seem to come up with a method of raising the money. That's when Lillian suggested the unthinkable, though in truth the idea had been rolling around in his own mind. Lincoln simply couldn't muster up the guts to say so himself.

"If we do this Brother then it's all but certain we're never coming back here again. Why don't we sell the house?" Lillian proposed.

Lincoln's bewilderment couldn't be hidden. He was certain that if he'd suggested it instead she would have put up no end of protest. He couldn't help but gawk in surprise.

"That's a feasible idea but you do know what you're saying, right?" he asked with some small reservation.

"It's ok, brother." She said, flashing a reassuring smile, "If we go there and this works it would only make sense to stay. If it doesn't work then we certainly won't need this house if we're dead, will we?"

Her demeanor shocked him somewhat, but her logic was indeed sound. There'd be no turning back once they got there, it was all or nothing from then on. Now the only issue was to figure out who to try and sell it to.

"You do have a very good point, Lil." Lincoln replied at last, "But where could we find someone around here that could afford this place?"

Lincoln knew how much the house was worth from having to take care of the taxes while his parents worked. Until he'd started working as well the responsibility had fallen to him. His parents had planned to take over this burden once he entered the workforce, but Lincoln pushed to keep it up himself. Even while he stretched himself to the limit to work he continued to take care of this for his parents' sakes. From this he knew that it would be no easy task to find someone not only willing to but able to buy their house. The short notice would only serve to complicate the matter further.

"We only need about ten-thousand, right brother?" Lillian asked, her head cocked in an almost comically curious manner.

"That should be plenty to cover the trip and incidentals." He agreed.

"Then let's sell it to cousin Raph. It's worth a lot more than that but I think having a bigger place would help him."

"Do you think he has the money?" Lincoln queried, knowing their cousin was by no means rich or even particularly well to do.

"Not to be rude, but they did share with me that they were saving up to build a bigger house for their family. They might have enough to cover a bare-minimum price like this."

Lincoln considered it for only a moment, noting that it would make a good final act before their departure. In a sense it would be like passing the house to other family, being that their asking price would come to less than a tenth of the actual value. It made sense no matter which way you looked at it.

"Well then, let's go see cousin Raph." Lincoln gave his answer, patting his sister on the head.

Ψ

Raphael slowly rubbed the right side of his temple. It wouldn't be a stretch to say he was more than a little irritated with his cousins at this very moment. Here they stood, essentially asking him to fund their suicide with what amounted to his entire savings. It seemed this way to him, at least. Though their logic was sound and their argument hard to refute, it still grated on his nerves that they would come to him with such a heinous proposition.

"Exactly how do you think you're going to attract the attention of a Familia, Lincoln?" Raphael glared the young man down as he posed these words. It was a fair enough question.

"I won't lie, Raph. I'm sorta making this up as I go." Lincoln's reply came with no sense on uncertainty, "But the fact that we can't make our way in this village is undeniable. I'm not sure how but I will make this work."

The fire behind his cousin's eyes only served to irritate Raphael further. He couldn't deny the validity of any of their reasoning, nor could he deny the benefit of the offer they were making. Indeed, his own house was far too small to support the family of seven. He knew he'd either need to build more onto it, build an entirely new house or purchase a larger one. This offer in front of him was as tempting as a banquet to one dying of starvation. This only served to make him wary not to gorge himself.

"You know what you're proposing then, right?" Raphael inquired further, wanting to hear the resolve in no uncertain terms, "If you do this you're basically sealing your fate one way or another. It's do or die from here on."

"I understand that, cousin, and am ready to assume full responsibility for my decision." Lincoln responded in kind, his fiery will made clear, "So, do we have a deal?"

Raphael could hardly bring himself to look his younger cousin in the eye. The fervor of Lincoln's gaze only made him want to strike him. Raphael continued to massage his temple, though it was closer to furious scratching at this point. He looked from Lincoln to Lillian, who until recently had been in his care after their parents' deaths. He could see that, though saddened at this turn of events, the girl clearly held faith in her brother. Raphael considered offering Lincoln to work with him for a brief moment. He knew it would essentially be a sinking ship if he invited the two into his own household. This thought stayed his tongue.

With a deep sigh he looked back to the young man standing in front of him. His stance full of resolve, the answer was very nearly impossible to ignore. Closing his eyes, Raphael relented.

"I guess there's nothing left except to wish you luck then, cousin." He groaned with reluctance, considering the possible consequences of this turn of events, "I'll buy your house with my meager savings and wish you all the best in this suicidal endeavor. I truly hope it doesn't turn out the way I think it will."

His words were obviously mixed with sarcasm and exasperation at the situation, yet Lincoln could almost sense a hint of admiration in his tone. He wouldn't have been wrong either, for though Raphael did not agree with the course of action he was deeply impressed with how far his cousin was willing to go for his family. Though he was almost certain his money would only serve to send them to their graves he still held hope that Lincoln's resolve would bring about a different outcome.

"Thank you, Cousin Raphael." Lincoln said with a deep bow, his tone switching very neatly to a formal demeanor.

"Don't thank me just yet, kiddo." Raphael responded, his own tone losing any sense of formality, "Since I'm pretty sure I'm sending you both off to meet death, I'd rather not be thanked. Just remember to send me a letter if you actually make it, okay?"

He paused for a moment before adding, "And know that I'm rooting for you both."

With that, the cousins exchanged some pleasantries and shared a meal before parting ways for what would be the last time. Lincoln and Lillian walked home, an almost somber mood hanging between them. Lincoln's heart was filled with trepidation as he considered what he was getting himself into, the small sack of gold coins bouncing in his arms as they trudged toward their family home for the last time.

Φ

Two sets of eyes glance across the vast fields of a small village, framed on two sides by a majestic mountain range. These two sets of eyes, one such deep brown they could be mistaken for black while the other an emerald-green, are filled with both unease and excitement. The image within them of a village that has been home as long as they've existed slowly shrinks in the distance, disappearing into the horizon after a time.

The brother and sister sit side by side in a horse drawn carriage, their destiny now set in motion as they are pulled slowly toward the Labyrinthine City. This realization sinks in with all the weight of a stone in water. This choice to pursue life and prosperity has placed their destiny very much in their hands, as a chunk clay to be molded through effort and will. It is a surety to the both of them that the path ahead will yield no end of heartache and difficulty. This is almost a divine guarantee.

Yet as they watch the mountains in the distance, their now former home sitting somewhere beneath the stone giants, no sense of regret exists between them. The brother holds strong to his conviction to provide for the family he has left. The sister holds true to the faith she has placed in him.

Thus these siblings, dealt the cruel hand of a fate they've thus far weathered, embark upon the first step of their epic tale. A tale that a shining being watches with much interest in some far off corner of the Heavens, a proud smile etching its way across the divine visage.


	5. Hardheaded

Chapter 4

Hardheaded

Λ

Beyond the lower world, where the many denizens of Orario go about their daily lives, lies Tenkai. The home of the many Gods and Goddesses, even those who've left it, sits atop the mantle of creation. The shining city of the Heavens stretches out as far as the mind can fathom, the various houses and manors of the Gods scattered here and there. Zeus and Odin sit upon their mighty thrones on either end, watching the goings on below with much interest.

A smirk here, a chuckle there. The two of them are having all sorts of fun watching how their fellow Deities interact with and change the ever malleable destinies of the children below. Zeus contemplates his own machinations as he watches a certain white haired boy, once again being far too forgiving. He stares intently through a divine mirror, granting him a clear view of the scene unfolding in the Dungeon, as the white haired child smiles at a little prum.

Zeus very nearly pulls a muscle as he is thrown into a raucous belly-laugh when the boy responds to her accusations of his idiocy. The two are putting on a fantastic show for the God with their ever fluid emotions and he is loving every hilarious moment of it. Hilarious to him, at least.

Odin strokes his beard in thoughtful admiration of the same white haired boy, who just moments earlier had dispatched a large crowd of killer ants all alone. What was even more impressive to him was the purity of this young warrior's spirit. He could see why Freya was so obsessed with the blooming chivalry within the snowy-haired child.

Completely unknown to the two Divines spectating the boy and the crying prum in his arms, there was a place beyond even their thrones. There was an existence, for that is all it can truly be described as, far beyond the knowledge or reaches of Tenkai. There was a small pocket of old space and time where a single, stone throne sat. All alone in this dreary corner of forgotten existence was a single entity of infinite divinity, its face too bright to even look in the direction of.

This lone entity sat quietly and contentedly on its stone throne, watching over the Gods who were themselves watching this one boy. With its shining face rested on a completely colorless hand, its body draped in a shabby ivory robe, the entity cracked a cheeky smile behind the splendor of its countenance. The being whispered a few words that will forever be left unheard to the endless vacuum stretched out in all directions around its throne.

With only a thought the pool at the foot of the throne, through which this thing was formerly watching the two Gods, glimmered brightly for a brief moment before displaying a different scene before its master. This time it was an image of a young man and a younger girl sitting in a carriage.

With one more cheeky grin and a few more unheard whispers, the being waved its hand over the top of the pool. It shimmered for a moment and disappeared entirely, removing the only detail from the entirely featureless pocket of existence. The being merely sat back on its throne and considered the events ahead with a divine curiosity.

Ω

The carriage rolled sleepily along through the last traces of night, having started the last stretch of its journey in the wee hours of the morning. It bumped and rolled lazily through a light fog that had collected as the hours of night passed by. The horse at the front trotted under careful guidance from the driver behind it, nostrils flaring lightly at the faint scent of danger only it could perceive through the veil of mist. Only the occasional whiney or neigh could have been any indication of its alarm, though the carriage driver was a tad too busy to notice these.

He pawed drowsily at the sleep caught in his eyes, a yawn giving away his fatigue, as he watched the road ahead as much as he could. Being too preoccupied with his own missed sleep, the driver noticed nothing different about the horse in front of him. For that matter, neither did the guards to either side of his carriage. They rode along in their own early morning drowsiness, the bumping of their saddles serving as an occasional wakeup call.

Perhaps this is the reason none of those responsible for the safety of the carriage noticed the glimmer of an arrow, stuck just a little too far from its hiding place. Notched and waiting for the proper moment to begin its deadly flight, the arrow shimmered just enough in the last rays of moonlight that a more alert observer would've easily noticed it. Thankfully the one holding this arrow at the ready was about as inexperienced as they come. With a light whistle the arrow was set loose, flying through the air and missing its mark by barely a hair's width.

With no warning at all the driver was brought to complete alert by a piercing pain in his neck, just above the collar bone. He would later praise the name of every God he knew that this arrow hit nothing vital. All the same he clutched at his pierced neck, a trickle of blood washing between his fingers, and rolled off his seat when his back reflexively became rigid. He hit the muddy ground with a thud and a cursing grunt.

"Bandits!" yelled the first guard, to the left of the carriage, as he withdrew his sword and scanned the area for the source of the arrow.

Lincoln heard this commotion, awoken by the sudden stop of the carriage, and bolted to an upright position. With no thought of his own safety he reached under the seat he had been sharing with Lillian and grabbed his inherited blade. With what can only be described as the speed of a demon, his leg muscles fired in sequence and carried him out of the carriage.

Upon exiting he could immediately see a melee carrying on in the murkiness just in front of the carriage. The two guards fought expertly against outnumbering foes, their blades shedding sparks in the dim moonlight of pre-dawn. Blow traded for blow, blade blocked with blade, the guards were only barely holding off five assailants by Lincoln's count. He watched with no small degree of awe as the men traded strike for deadly strike in the pallid moonlight, their deadly dance casting eerie shadows through the fog.

Lincoln swallowed a lump in his throat very audibly, or so it would have been were it not for the clanging of steel and iron ringing through the dark. He had come this far, blade drawn and at the ready, but now he knew not how to continue. The sudden realization of how inexperienced he was hit him with all the force of a comet plunging from the heavens. The sight of this experienced dance of death being played by the men in front of him came like a bucket of ice-water poured upon the sunbaked back of a field worker at midday. His feet were stayed by the waves of fear that crept through every fiber of his being.

He watched this dance as his mind was filled with insecurity. He knew he had to do something to help or the guards would eventually be overcome. He knew that would be the end of his and Lillian's journey before it had even begun. His heart burned with the foreboding knowledge of their inevitable fate if he couldn't bring himself to action.

 _Go on, show me what your heart is capable of._

A sound suddenly rang through his head, ever so faintly Lincoln could scarcely recognize it was even there. Words spoken softly as between lovers or perhaps the soft cooing of the wind, he could not tell which. Yet he could tell that the amulet draped around his neck, the present Harvey had bid him farewell with, was suddenly warmer than it should be. He felt a wash of fury and fervor pull the fear from his very bones, replacing it instead with all the confidence of a warrior of many battles.

Lincoln gripped his blade even tighter, gritting his teeth as he watched the scene before him. His eyes darted back and forth across the fog, keener now than they had ever been, carefully watching the movements of the combatants. He found himself suddenly able to follow what seemed like slower movements to his now maddeningly perceptive eyes. He watched and watched, feeling the passage of many minutes, looking for the patterns of the combat.

In truth, only a matter of maybe thirty seconds passed as the young man observed the combatants. His attack was launched just as one of the bandits poised himself for a killing blow on the left flank of one of the guards. Lincoln didn't even realize he had taken a single step when the warm feeling of spilt blood washed across his hands.

The bandit stared in disbelief at the stumps where his sword was tightly clutched only a moment ago. His eyes darted hysterically to try and find the answer to a question he hadn't yet thought of, so quick was the blow that had severed his hands from his forearms. That's when he saw the younger looking man, eyes alight with fury and hatred, raise his blade for the killing blow. Without feeling a thing the bandit's consciousness turned off like a flipped switch. His head rolled twice upon hitting the ground before coming to a stop.

Lincoln had lost all cognizance by this point as he turned to face the next target. The amulet glowed fiercely hot on his breast, nearly searing his flesh with its intensity. He stepped slowly through the melee, one foot in front of the other, without so much as a glance form the four remaining assailants. He gripped the blade in his right hand with such ferocity his knuckles began to turn the color of snow.

The guards continued their struggle, dancing and striking in turn, as he approached. Without a warning, just as the guard on the left parried a diagonal cut from his top-right, a flash of steel blurred his vision for a moment. He saw the bandit recoil in pain, the fingers removed from one hand, and pressed the attack. The second bandit fell to the ground, a pool of blood forming from the hole in his chest.

At this point the other three bandits took notice of the bodies of their comrades lying lifeless on the ground. They could make out the two guards clearly in front of them, yet not so the third enemy. No, Lincoln was almost dismissible so faint was his aura through the fog. Yet all the same the bandits could feel the battle turning against their favor. With this thought in the back of their minds the three turned tail, almost in unison, and fled like a deer from a pack of wolves.

Lincoln stood calmly behind the two guards, watching the bandits disappear into the foggy woods beyond the road. He took a few deep breaths before the heat of the amulet faded completely. With it faded his consciousness as he dropped to his knees, planting his face firmly on the ground. The two guards stared at the young man laying nearly asleep on the ground, a look of curiosity plastered on their faces.

 _That was very well done_ _._

Once more there was a faint whisper in Lincoln's ear, this time just a tad more audibly. He could tell someone had spoken but could not make out their words. This realization was the final thought through his mind as sleep overtook him.

β

A great wall gradually came into view as a pair of emerald eyes gazed worriedly out the carriage window. The rhythmic bumps and jostles of transit could not avert the attention of the young girl away from her ruminations. Her mind was full of concern for her brother after the attack, now only a matter of hours past. She had seen a side of her brother she never would've believed to exist. Yet there it was, an irrefutable memory.

After the guard had yelled his alert, her brother's sudden movements had awoken her as well. When he bolted out the carriage door she followed behind him against her own better judgement. The sight of the melee had held her feet steadfast with overwhelming fear. The girl had watched in horror as her brother also froze, the first display of true conflict laid out before both of them. Unfair and unrefined, a dance of death performed by frenzied actors with iron and steel.

What had unfolded next filled her heart with disbelief and dread. Unwilling to believe her brother could be so merciless, the girl had hidden herself away within the carriage after the first kill. He had indeed been the salvation of their protectors yet it was still very troubling to see him do such a thing.

She watched the growing wall in the distance intently as the grisly image of hours earlier left her mind. With a small sigh, she turned to look at her brother. He lay sprawled out peacefully on the seat across from her. With the departure of the last passengers, aside from themselves, they were now alone in the fairly comfortable interior of the rather plain carriage. She watched as he slowly drew breath in rhythmic succession, a strange look of calm across his face. It did not seem the look of one recently baptized in fire such as he.

Once more she began to lose herself in thought as the carriage plodded along, drawing ever closer to the mighty outer-wall of Orario.

Ψ

The carriage came to a stop just inside the great gate that served as Orario's western entrance. With the journey completed the driver slowly lowered himself from his seat, a myriad of aches and pains coursing through his battered body. He was very thankful to have his life still, but that did not stop him uttering the odd curse under his breath while disembarking. With a stretch and a grunt he shook the stiffness from his back before walking to the door of his carriage. He tapped twice before slowly opening it up.

"Excuse me, we have arrived at your destination. All is in order for you to disembark." He recited his lines with the practice of a thousand previous jobs under his belt.

A young, petite girl was the first to emerge. Her blonde hair shone lightly in the rays of the midday sun. She dusted off her knee-length, tan color dress before taking a few steps away from the door. She raised one arm over her head, grabbing it at the elbow with the other, and stretched away the rigidity imparted by the long ride. After this short display she turned back to the carriage, a slight look of irritation on her face.

"Brother, we're here!" she called out, trying not to be too loud.

Lincoln was awake and also stretching away, a powerful yawn erupting from his sleepy face. Finished waking himself fully the young man hopped up and reached under the seat to grab his sword. When he couldn't find it he very quickly bolted out of the carriage.

"Lil! Where's my sword?!" he cried, voice full of alarm.

Lillian almost had to stifle a giggle as she watched her brother scramble around in frantic search of his blade. He bolted back into the carriage upon seeing it was not with her and began to look all around the interior. No sign of it could be found, so once more he exited the carriage only to be halted by one of the guards. The man raised his hand calmly as Lincoln was about to peer through their luggage.

"Excuse me, young man…" he calmly spoke, "Are you looking for this?"

Tucked in his other hand was a long, wrapped up item with a simple handle sticking out. Lincoln recognized it immediately.

"Yes, thank you!" he replied, taking it with a bow as the guard held it out to him.

"I wanted to thank you for your bravery earlier." The guard chimed in as his comrade walked up beside him.

"Yes, we're indebted to you for coming to our aid this morning." The other added.

Lincoln looked at the both of them with confusion clearly displayed upon his face. As far as he could recall he'd been asleep since they had begun the last leg of their journey in the wee hours. He tilted his head a little, eyes darting between the two sincerely grateful faces before him. Try as he might though, he could not recall what the two were referring to.

"I'm sorry but I don't know what you're talking about." Lincoln responded, lightly scratching the back of his head.

"Surely you recall the attack this morning, young man?" The first asked in disbelief.

"You swooped in like a madman and turned the tide in our favor." Chimed the other.

Lincoln looked from one to the other and back again as the guard's recounted the tale. The seriousness of their demeanor told him this was no joke, which left him all the more unnerved by the gravity of their claims.

"They're right, brother." Lillian spoke up, affirming the assertions of the guards.

Lincoln couldn't believe it. Apparently he'd not only fought just hours earlier but had shed blood as well. His hand gripped the sword even tighter, a surge of pain coursing through his wrist. One of the guards drew his attention as he stuck his hand out, offering him something.

"We thought this would be a good repayment." The man grumbled, "We're registered through the guild that controls the dungeon. Since I imagine that's why you're here, you can have this if you want."

"Thank you, but what is it?" Lincoln asked after taking the rolled up, sealed piece of paper.

"We only had a little time after the attack to prepare it, but it should be official enough for them. It's a letter of recommendation. If you decide you want to go it by yourself, and after that display earlier I wouldn't doubt you, then this will get you in as a free adventurer."

Lincoln stared at the rolled up paper in his hands, a great feeling of presage washing through his heart. His mind was briefly drawn to the journal and the exploits of his great-grandfather that it had detailed. Before letting himself become lost in thought, Lincoln gave a deep bow to the guards.

"Thank you very much, Sirs!" he called out, humbled by the gesture.

"I'd also like to offer you something, young man." This time it was the carriage driver who spoke, a small bag held in his hands.

Unnoticed to all the rest he had slipped away during the conversation and decided it would only be right to reward the young man for his service. The driver was supposed to be responsible, what with the hired muscle and so forth, for the safety of his passengers. Yet without the actions of one such passenger, for which he was responsible, they would probably all have been slaughtered. For this reason he held the bag out to the young man.

"Please accept this partial refund of your fee, young sir. You've certainly earned it." The older man nearly begged.

With another polite bow Lincoln reached out and accepted the bag of coins. Judging by the weight he assumed it was nearly half of the total they'd paid for passage. He could hardly believe the turn of events unfurling before him.

"Well, we offer you our thanks again young man." The driver began, "The three of us wish you luck in whatever endeavors you set yourself upon. Gods preserve you."

With a few more parting words the group split and went their separate ways. Lillian and Lincoln walked off further into the City, anxious to begin their new lives. The carriage driver and his guards watched them for just a moment before loading up to set out for another trip.

ϕ

A great metropolis sprung up around an even greater danger dwelling within the bowels of the world. A great void, a maw with thousands upon thousands of living teeth always seeking to devour. This was the Dungeon City, Orario. This was the pinnacle of aspiration for warriors far and wide. A place where one's bloodlust and combative spirit could be put to use in quelling the ever teeming hordes of monsters deep below the great tower at the City's heart. Yet, even among all these warriors were the downtrodden. Even among these mighty spirits of conquest and war-fury there were those that came here of desperation.

Many were the adventurer that sought the dungeon's promises of wealth to assuage their poor finances and feed their empty bellies. Time and again would the stories of empty lives lost to the dungeon ring out among ever swirling rumors. Always were there those who had nowhere else to turn and instead pursued succor at the risk, and often times cost, of their own lives. Here we can see the true nature of desperation, the true color of hopelessness felt only by those that have been all but abandoned by the Gods.

Chief among these poor souls were the free adventurers. Those who could not attract the attention of a Familia, instead suffering the full danger of the Dungeon under their own capacity as simple mortals. The Guild would never advise such reckless action among those who signed on with them, but all the same the guild would not turn them down. With this policy from the ruling body in control of the Dungeon, Orario garnered its lesser known title. The Mourning City, in homage to those that tried to make it on their own and could not.

With wide eyes and pallid demeanor, Lincoln and Lillian both sat in stunned silence as they listened to the ramblings of the old man in front of them. They had only engaged him in polite conversation after settling on a price for staying two weeks at his inn. However this older man was quite observant, making out the shape of a sword in the cloth-wrapped object clutched in Lincoln's left hand. The entire monologue had begun as innocent advice to the young and rash.

The old man had been filling their ears and minds with the worst, yet in all honesty most truthful, details of Orario's true nature. Underneath the façade of adventure and glory existed a litany of harsh realities and harsher obstacles. Now, with the old man's mostly unsolicited advice ringing in their very souls, the two siblings sat dumbstruck as they shared tea with him.

"Well, I do hope you'll take my words into account young man." The innkeeper sighed, taking a sip of his tea and calmly setting it down.

"You have a… convincing argument." Lincoln replied, giving up his own exasperated sigh.

"We truly appreciate your concern, Sir." Lillian chimed in, "But we are in a rather desperate situation."

The old man had heard this same excuse a thousand times before, so much so his heart had nearly hardened to it. He ran an inexpensive inn just about halfway between West and Northwest Main. Often times his inn was the first destination of the foolhardy newbies coming to seek fame and fortune in the depths of the Dungeon. He might've brushed off the excuse of desperation if he hadn't seen a peculiar shimmer in the girl's eye.

"Exactly how are you two desperate, having just paid for an extended stay here in full?" he queried, his brow cocked slightly.

"My brother…" Lillian tried to begin, fidgeting with her dress slightly, "We came here with the last of our money…"

"I brought us here because I couldn't find work where we've been living." Lincoln piped in, putting an arm around Lillian's shoulder to calm her. He knew she had a hard time trying to justify herself to other people, often becoming overwhelmed with anxiety.

"So, is she some sort of invalid then?" the old man replied gruffly, pointing to Lillian with an accusatory gesture.

"She's my sister and she's been very sickly since birth…" Lincoln replied, trying not to let his anger bleed into his words.

"Ah…" the old man scratched at his chin, nodding in understanding, "So you're here to throw your life away in an empty gesture of loyalty and duty, heh?"

"No, I'm here to take care of my family." Lincoln couldn't hide his anger at all, eliciting a smile from the old man.

"Well then, I guess your heart's in the right place at least."

The old man stood, ignoring the visibly reddening faces of his guests. He walked across the small lobby to his desk and rummaged around until he'd found a small, wooden box. Box in hand he came back to his seat and plopped down. With practiced movement he produced and lit a cigarette, taking a few puffs before continuing.

"Well, where are you going to start eh?"

Lincoln had planned to simply look around for a Familia and start dungeon diving as soon as he could. In all truth though, the difficulty of such a seemingly simple proposal had been eating at him more and more since they departed from the village. He had no idea exactly what looking for a Familia would involve, and the queries of this old man only served to bring to light his ignorance of the subject.

"I'm sure I'll have a better idea of that after a good night's sleep." he replied very bluntly, standing and giving a bow. He hoped his response was enough to end this all too awkward conversation.

The old man grinned as he watched the two leave for their room, an interest he'd not felt in decades now piqued. His curiosity was now quite awakened, pondering how the two strangers would handle the Mourning City as they attempted to make their way through a new life.

Ω

The siblings did not sleep well at all that night. Cramped quarters and unfamiliar surroundings served only to aggravate Lillian's delicate constitution. Lincoln was none too fond of his sleeping arrangements either, having elected to sleep upon the floor so his sister could occupy the only bed in the room. Certainly big enough for two yet Lincoln had the good manners to offer it for his sister's sole usage.

Among these already dismal sleeping conditions, the conversation with the rather sour innkeeper hadn't helped either. Their dreams were quite tormented with images of grisly outcomes that might await them in their newly adopted home. Fears hidden just under their conscious minds surfaced to run amok in their slumber.

All the same, Lincoln rose in time with the sun as he always did. His body conditioned from years of hard labor and sleep deprivation to meet deadlines, this awakening was nothing unsettling to him. In fact one could venture to say it was comfortable even, almost a familiar feeling, to wake up in such a manner.

He stretched out the stiffness of the restless night, a heavy yawn cracking across his face. With a brief look around the room he stood to look for the bathroom so he could wash his face. He'd already decided on his objectives for the day. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, he was going to make a visit to the Guild at the bottom of the giant tower.

He'd seen it quite clearly, for it was entirely impossible not to lay eyes on it, as he and Lillian were wandering West Main the previous day. After questioning a few knowledgeable looking individuals he had determined that this was where one went to become an adventurer. Therefore it only made sense to begin his investigation there, or so he'd determined.

These thoughts ran through his mind as he washed his face off in the privy. A shower would soon be needed, but he figured another day of smelling something more than manly shouldn't be an issue. With that in mind he dressed himself and gathered up his effects before stopping to scrawl out a hasty note. He hoped Lillian would be safe enough by herself but decided to leave a note just in case, so she'd know when to expect him back.

Satisfied, Lincoln grabbed the wrapped up sword and jogged into the hallway, down the stairs and toward the front door. Judging by the unlit, unpopulated lobby he assumed that he was up earlier than even the innkeeper.

Exiting the inn Lincoln took a deep lungful of the air outside, just starting to garner the smell of late autumn or perhaps even early winter. As he recalled the time of year was closing in on the end of Harvest. Soon Freeze would bring the all too familiar temperature for which it gained its namesake. This thought flowed through his head as he considered the slightly crisp bite of the cool air on his skin, a brisk breeze caressing him as he bolted toward the great tower.

It grew larger and larger in his vision as he approached, eventually becoming too big to see the top. He brought his face down from staring to the sky just in time to see the dog-eared woman he was in the process of running into. With a graceless grunt the two collided headlong into each other, firmly planting their rear ends on the ground.

"Ow, watch it!" rang out a very angry female voice.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention." Lincoln furiously apologized, standing and offering his hand.

The woman brushed it away, instead leaping to her feet with all the grace of an acrobat. She carefully dusted off her teal robe, which reached down to her ankles, and flashed a look of disgust at the young man in front of her. The dog-ears on her head twitched with agitation as she stared him down, Lincoln growing more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. Her stare was intense and he wanted nothing more than to bow his head in shame and walk away.

"Well, aren't you going to offer a better apology than that?" she chided, breaking the silence.

"Uh… I- That is…" Lincoln was thoroughly unnerved by her glare, to the point he was tripping over his words.

"Your inattentiveness just knocked a woman onto her bottom, and you can't even apologize properly?!"

Her yelling caused Lincoln to break out in a cold sweat, his tongue tying itself into a knot in his mouth. He struggled to think of what to say, just wanting this situation to be over with so he could go about his business. At last he managed to push through the almost unnatural nervousness that'd overtaken him.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking! I was preoccupied thinking about signing up with the Guild and becoming an adventurer! I'm completely at fault and very remorseful, Ma'am!"

He blurted out everything that came to mind, hoping something would appease her and make her go away. Indeed something did catch her fancy, one of the ears on top of her head standing straight up at the mention of 'adventurer'. A sly smile crept across the woman's face as she actually looked the man in front of her over from head to toe.

He was now presenting a deep, apologetic bow but she could still make out that he was fairly well built. He looked healthy enough, even a little muscular as far as she could make out through his outfit. She stood straight, crossing her arms and assuming a cocky pose, as she began to formulate an idea of how to make the best of this. Seemed she might could use this man's absentmindedness to help herself out.

Lincoln began to sweat even more as he could feel her eyes all over him. It felt like a predator sizing up its prey and he was beginning to strongly consider running off into a nearby alley. However the strong sense of manners, instilled by his parents, stayed his feet. Instead he straightened up to look her in the eye. Just as he opened his mouth to speak she chimed in first instead.

"You're going to sign up to adventure, heh?" she asked excitedly, her tone changing in an instant.

"Yes…" Lincoln muttered uncertainly.

"Well, I know how you can apologize properly then. Take me to meet your God and put a good word in for me to join your Familia!"

Her face beamed with excitement, a large smile plastered across her lips, as she proposed this supposed apology. Lincoln could only stare in shock as he attempted to mount a response to her clear misinterpretation of what exactly he was doing. The two stood there for many a minute, an unease filling their shared space. Both began to fidget while awaiting something, anything, from the other.

"Um…" Lincoln began at last, "I don't have a Familia…"

Θ

Bell stared across the great courtyard at the base of Babel Tower, his eyes fixed on the silhouette of a petite female wearing a rucksack far too large for her frame. The figure stared at the ground with a look of dejection clearly carved into her face, framed with chestnut colored hair. The hood of a cream colored robe was pulled up, obscuring the predominant portion of her head.

He took a deep breath and walked up to her, determined not to leave things so sour. He'd developed a deep concern for this little prum supporter and hoped that this stunt he was about to pull might cheer her up. Along with that he hoped to get his point across that this wasn't the end of their association. He stopped beside her, still unnoticed by the melancholy girl, and put on his biggest smile before speaking.

"Miss supporter! Miss supporter!" he called out playfully.

The girl visibly jumped in surprise, turning to look the whitehaired boy in his ruby-red eyes. Her own eyes, the same chestnut color as her hair, were clearly on the verge of tears.

"Are you looking for an adventurer, miss supporter?" the boy continued, playful as well as cheery.

"Mister Bell, I don't understand…" came the girl's reply, her face contorted with confusion and despondence.

"It's actually quite simple…" the boy began, excited to deliver the lines he'd been reciting and refining for the last few hours, "A humble adventurer is advertising himself in the hopes of finding a supporter to explore the Dungeon with! So are you free, miss supporter?"

Just as he'd hoped, her face lit up with joy at his words. She leapt from her seat on the fountain at the center of the courtyard. Her heart elated with the forgiveness from this boy, she cheerily gave her reply.

"Of course! Lily is always happy to work with Mister Bell!"

The two exchanged elated smiles and walked towards the Dungeon, a long lasting friendship freshly blooming between them. Unnoticed to them was the figure passing just behind them, his own destination within the tower.

Ω

Lincoln walked slowly toward the mighty tower, his head filled with embarrassment at his encounter with the bossy chienthrope just minutes earlier. The woman had pestered him for quite a few minutes after he told her he had no Familia. She was obviously irritated by this revelation, though he truly could not guess why. So he just bore the fussing and politely excused himself from her presence as soon as he was able.

He was quite happy to finally reach the tower and begin the process of putting his plan into motion. He was certain Lillian would be mad, had he told her what he truly had in mind to do this day. With trepidation and determination he gripped the cloth wrapped blade in his left hand. The great doors of Babel Tower stood like looming stone sentinels in front of him. With no small degree of nervousness he opened up the doors, slightly startled by the seeming lack of weight behind them, and set foot into the lobby.

He was immediately consumed with awe upon taking in his first glimpses of the interior. It was adorned like nothing he'd ever seen before, elegant yet not gaudy in its ornamentation. The tiled marble floor rang with loud clicks as he tread to the front desk. His shadow walked with him, cast long upon the lovely gilded walls by immense magic-stone chandeliers above. As he stepped up to the counter he noted the wonderful craftsmanship of the wood.

"How can I help you, young sir?" an older man asked without even attempting to hide his boredom.

"Uh, hi. I'm here to sign up to be an adventurer." Lincoln replied, hoping he seemed more professional that he felt.

"Please join the line to your right and you'll be walked through the process by the first free Guild advisor."

Lincoln followed the unengaged man's directions, walking over to a small line in front of a row of counters. These counters stood lower than the previous, perhaps only slightly above his waist. He was succeeded in line by two significantly tougher looking men and a very serious seeming woman. He grew slightly nervous at the thought of working with such capable looking individuals.

"Sir, I can help you!" called a sweet sounding voice.

Lincoln couldn't help but turn to look for the source of the melodious utterance, immediately locking eyes with a young half-elf waving her hand around in the air.

"Yes, you with the confused look!" she called once again.

Lincoln pointed to his own chest to be sure she was speaking to him. She nodded in response and he walked briskly to her desk. He was taken slightly by surprise at having been called out of the line to be served.

"I heard the manager direct you over here to sign up, so I thought I'd let you know you were in the wrong line." the half-elf said with a polite smile.

Lincoln's face lit up slightly with embarrassment as he gripped the wrapped blade tighter in his hand.

"Ah, thank you." He said once he'd pulled his thoughts together, "So, can you help me sign up then?"

"Yes, I most certainly can!" she replied, "But first allow me to introduce myself. My name is Eina Tulle. I'll be your Guild advisor from this day on if you're sure you want to sign up."

She offered her hand for a shake, to which Lincoln obliged with some small flush of nervousness. With greetings out of the way Eina motioned for him to have a seat, pointing to a chair just to his right.

"Well, first thing's first then. I'll need to know the name of your Familia, young Sir." She began, her voice taking a very businesslike tone.

"Actually, I don't have one yet. I was hoping I could attract some attention on my own first…"

Eina's happy demeanor disappeared so suddenly Lincoln could almost feel the change of the atmosphere. Her emerald eyes took on a look of frustration as she began to really size him up. He could feel her gaze physically crawl across him, unsettling in its intensity. She cleared her throat before opening her mouth to speak.

"I'm afraid you'll need a recommendation from an appropriate individual to sign up as a free adventurer." She declared, hoping to dissuade him.

Lincoln reached into his pocket and pulled out the now slightly crumpled note the guards had given him. With a shaky hand he presented it to Eina. A look of agitation upon her face she took the note, breaking the seal and inspecting the contents before folding it neatly and putting it away. Once more she cleared her throat, this time as more of a compulsive action, before voicing her thoughts.

"I can't exactly stop you it would seem, but I do have to ask. Are you aware of exactly how dangerous an idea this is?" her tone was now flat and solemn.

"Well, I have an idea but I don't know from experience." Lincoln replied.

"The Dungeon is alive. It is constantly birthing the foulest, meanest creatures to walk this earth. We here at the Guild coordinate the efforts of adventurers to quell this threat. Adventurers delve the depths and slay these creatures while we reward their risk with monetary compensation for the magic-stones and drops they gather."

Eina paused for a moment, adjusting her glasses, before taking a breath and continuing.

"The point of a Familia is the Falna granted by the God or Goddess in charge. These blessings allow your body to perform feats that supersede the normal limits of mortals. You're not exactly superhuman at first but the difference is undeniable as you continue to grow your blessing."

Lincoln opened his mouth to explain that he was aware of this but was quickly stopped. Eina raised her hand between them to hush his words before they even left his mouth.

"Now, like I said, I can't stop you. However I want you to realize your risk of death is exponentially higher without a blessing. Do you still want to do this?"

"Yes." Lincoln affirmed, his dedication clearly displayed upon his face.

Eina sighed deeply with concern for yet another troublesome young adventurer. This was promising to shape up just like the whitehaired boy who was the source of her near constant headaches. With reluctance nearly aching in her bones, Eina stood to fetch the paperwork for the signup process. Every time she had to do this for a free adventurer she felt as though she were fetching the papers for a death sentence. Her heart sank as she returned to her desk, papers in hand.

"Very well. Please fill these out and I'll bring your enlistment gear while you do so." Eina instructed.

"Um, what gear now?" Lincoln asked, confused.

"Oh, I'm sorry. One of those sheets is a loan agreement. You'll be issued a backpack and some basic armor as an enlistment incentive. Of course you'll be given plenty of time to repay the loan."

With that Eina turned and disappeared into the back of the Guildhall to procure the promised equipment. Lincoln could only sigh as he considered the burden of even more debt. He cringed as he recalled the debt he owed to the doctor that had been treating his sister from birth. He certainly did not care to accrue any further debt on top of this yet it seemed inevitable.

Eina returned with an almost comically overstuffed backpack clutched to her chest, one far too small for all the items it held. She sat down and placed the pack on the desk, opening the top to remove the contents. With practiced movements she laid a simple breastplate, a set of shin guards, a small shield and a short sword in front of Lincoln.

"This is your standard Guild provisional set of equipment. The total for the loan is ten-thousand vals, for which the first payment will be due only after your first full month of service."

"Um, I actually don't need the short sword. I have my own here…" Lincoln responded, setting the wrapped blade on the desk.

Eina eyed the wrapped up object for a moment before looking back to the man in front of her. She sighed and grabbed the short sword, setting it down behind her desk.

"Well, that'll bring it down to seven-thousand. Now, do you need me to explain anything regarding the paperwork?"

Lincoln had hastily completed the papers he'd been left with while waiting for Eina's return. With a satisfied nod he handed her the papers and grabbed hold of the backpack, stuffing the equipment back into it. Eina peered over the papers briefly while he did this, affirming it was done to satisfaction. Assured this was the case she stood and offered her hand.

"Well, I'm pleased to be working with you Mister Ansley. I'll give you a brief tour and you'll be good to go."

With this the two set off into the tower. Eina marched Lincoln up and down the interior of the first floor, showing off the various service areas the Guild maintained for adventurers. He was quite taken aback with exactly how thoroughly the establishment was furnished for the needs of its employees. He spent the next hour taking in the menagerie of information being hurled at him by the meticulous half-elf.

At last it came to an end as Eina guided him back to the entrance of the Guild's office. Lincoln quietly breathed a sigh of relief as he walked with her to the door.

"Well, is there anything else I can answer for you?" she asked.

"Actually, there is one thing." Lincoln replied, turning to face his advisor, "When can I go into the dungeon?"

"I'd advise you rest up well for a few days and get a good feel for your armor. All the same though, you're an official adventurer now. You can go in as soon as you're ready. Though, I cannot clear you to go past the second floor just yet, since you have no blessing."

Satisfied with this response, Lincoln gave a final bow and left. Once he was sure he was out of Eina's eyesight he headed for the entrance to the Dungeon. His heart alight with furious determination, he set off to test himself in what was essentially the very maw of Hell itself.

Ω

Lincoln's heart was nearly stilled in its beats by the disquieting sight before him in the Dungeon. He'd heard some few tales of its terror, yet no detail did these few stories give him to prepare his heart to witness such a grisly picture. Indeed, the first lesson he ever truly received regarding the truth of combat was to be rendered in gruesome detail by the living Dungeon itself.

Just a few rooms into the second floor he came across a grisly scene. Gore and viscera strewn all along the floor and walls, a vision out of some foul nightmare. A number of newbie adventurers lay dead before him. He couldn't tell how many there were, so badly were the bodies ruined. Among the mangled corpses stood two images that surely were given life from the terror of some poor soul's sleep.

Shadow was the only the only word he could muster to identify them, and this was indeed very close to the case. Standing perhaps just under two meters tall, their bodies pitch black like a moonless night, were two bloodied War Shadows. Two sickeningly gangly arms reached out from an emaciated excuse for a torso, ending in vicious claws now soaked in blood and gore. A constantly shifting knot of murk with two glowing red dots rested where a head should be.

As Lincoln's breathing became haggard and alarmed he felt his balance suddenly shift. Without thinking he'd been leaning gradually backwards, almost in instinct to run. Some sick sense of curiosity and bravery had kept him from turning and bolting, however. This had resulted in his nearly tripping over thin air, which in turn drew the attention of the two shadows looming over their kills.

With a heart-sinking glare the red dots that passed for eyes were instantly trained on Lincoln. With all the speed of a flash of light the shadows hastened to engage their new found prey.


	6. Crossroads

Chapter 5

Crossroads

Λ

A being of infinite divinity, not much more than a great light clad in a shabby robe, paced back and forth in front of its throne. A single stone fixture sitting lonely and cold in a pocket of existence tucked deep in the complete unknown. In all directions around the throne stretched an infinite abyss, the maw of unborn creation. Dark and cold yet writhing and very much alive, this was the place where existence comes to die and be reborn again. This was the source of all things that ever have been or ever will be, called to shape and destiny by the will of this divinity.

The greyish masses thrashed about as far as the eye could perceive, almost a sympathetic imitation of what passed for its master's heartbeat. Ebbing and flowing like the tide, stretching to and fro in constant shifts. The ever changing mass of unborn creation coalesced in one particular spot. Here it became something different, molded by the will of this entity, almost as if a living portrait. Much like the divine mirrors of the Gods of Tenkai, yet fundamentally dissimilar.

At this one spot, where the unborn creation gathered together, was a look into all things. A window to the past, the present and the infinite possible futures. Here lay a gateway to madness for any but the being pacing back and forth in front of it. This window was a meager expression of the omnipotence of its master, but it served its purpose as the being watched it with quiet interest.

Colors appeared and faded with all the unpredictability of fate itself, painting the infinite possible roads ahead of one young mortal. Assured death played out one moment followed by equally assured triumph, and so on it went. To express the time this went on would not be possible, time being a figment called forth from the unborn creation by this divinity's will.

So the being simply watched with macabre fascination as his machinations played out in billions upon billions of different forms. In this timeless void it watched the pool of fates, until at last one in particular caught its interest. The being stopped in its tracks, the only expression of emotion being the sudden glow of its countenance.

It was something one could not gaze upon with the naked eye before, but now with the sudden shift of its focus the being shined entirely differently. The feelings burning within it called the unborn creation around it to take form in existence. Now the swirling mass lent itself to create light the likes of which is entirely impossible to fathom. One could only say that this pocket of forgotten existence was so consumed with light as to be absent of darkness entirely.

The being waded effortlessly through the mire of blinding glory, a sick paradox of shadow cast by its emotional flux, to stand in front of the pool. It peered deeply into the fate playing out before it, the fate of one man in particular, with such interest as to be obsessed. The pool serving to give this view fixated itself on this one thread of fate, ceasing entirely its shifts between the infinite possibilities.

With the gradual calming of the being's emotions came the creeping of darkness back into its throne room. The unborn creation lost its mandate form the divine will as the being's concentration was entirely poured into the viewing pool. With that it lost its ability to coalesce into anything besides the ever writhing mass.

So this went on, the being now fully consumed with its chosen source of interest. The face glimmered brightly as ever, flashing a glint of what could be thought of as a smile.

Ω

Lincoln's legs pumped as fast as he could make them, carrying him further into the hell-maw he'd so foolishly entered perhaps only an hour earlier. Some crazy notion of foolhardy bravery and sick curiosity bade him to enter the Dungeon this very day. Throwing aside all sensible concern, he had obeyed that nagging little notion. Having done such he was now being chased down hallway after hallway, around every twist and turn imaginable. Every time he turned a corner prayers resounded throughout his heart that it wouldn't be a dead-end or another group of monsters.

The source of his pursuit was two creatures which could only be described as living silhouettes of blackness, perhaps birthed of the very void itself. They pursued him with nigh infinite vigor, intent on ripping their newly chosen prey to as many pieces as the previous group. These War Shadows had already tasted blood earlier, having chased a small group of fresh bloods up from floor seven. Now, after Lincoln had stumbled across and alerted them, they were after the red life flowing in his veins as well.

With murderous intent radiating from behind him Lincoln pushed himself to ignore the screaming of his muscles. He pushed himself to keep running, hoping to eventually find a spot to slip away. He pushed himself to ignore the fact he was becoming hopelessly lost. He pushed and pushed until it finally happened. He finally turned a corner and ran into a room that was essentially a huge square with no exit. He was certain this would be his tomb.

This thought had not even a moment to haunt him before he felt the presence of the first shadow behind him. It was upon him with such speed as to be entirely unreasonable. He turned in time to see the claw raised high, poised for a downward slash that would surely cleave his head in two. To this he responded with no awareness of his own, his subconscious instead taking the reins and bidding him to fold his knees.

With what could only be described as a clumsy tumble, Lincoln rolled just outside of the shadow's reach. His hand planted upon the floor in mid roll, arm stiffening and propelling his body into a single flip. He landed firmly on his feet, sweat pouring furiously from every pore as he glared into what passed for the shadow's eyes. He readied his blade in his right hand, having no real confidence in his stance. Yet all the same he braced himself to engage his opponent, more concerned by what his death would do to Lillian. Cursing his stupidity and impatience, Lincoln charged headlong toward the shadow.

A soft heat pulsed under his chest-plate, his amulet once more glowing with some unknown power. The soft whisper of an unfelt wind tickled his ears, completely unnoticed in the furor of his suicidal charge. With deftness entirely unknown to him, Lincoln ducked under the shadow's first counter. The strike missed his flesh but still managed to slice a few hairs free. In return he pumped his legs into a jump, thrusting the blade gripped in his hands with deadly result.

With an utter stroke of pure luck Lincoln managed to dig the sword into the underside of the critter's head, popping the tip of his blade out the top of the murky mass. A quiet warble of pain wheezed from the shadow for only a moment before its entire body evaporated, a small crystal dropping from the center of the cloud of dust. Yet there would be no respite to celebrate what amounted to a nearly impossible victory.

Seizing its chance the second shadow charged in, deathly fury coursing through its very being. Lincoln turned his body just enough to dodge a life-ending thrust, though the same could not be said for his armor. With all the ease of a hot knife through butter, the shadow's claw pierced the chest piece through and through. It cleaved across the entirety of it, severing the plate in two, and cut the chain of his amulet with it. Stopping in mid thrust the creature swung its arms outward, throwing Lincoln like a doll across the room.

He sailed through the air with all the grace of a sack of hammers, his flight coming to a stop upon the far wall of the room. With a sickening crack his back dug into the rocky surface of the Dungeon wall, knocking every bit of breath from his battered lungs. Lincoln began coughing haggardly, gasping for any small taste of air he could muster. The shadow, in turn, loomed ever closer to the seemingly doomed young man slouched on the floor.

Its murky face chittered an eerie perversion of a laugh, sauntering ever closer to Lincoln's crumpled form on the floor. He gasped for air as he watched the thing bare down on him, now only perhaps a meter away. His mind gradually went blank, his eyes glossing over as his consciousness wandered somewhere far away.

λ

 _What have I done? Why did I do this? I knew this would happen if I wasn't careful. I've never been this careless. I've always put her first. I've always based my actions on what would be best for her. So why am I here right now? Why am I sitting here waiting to die? It's so close, I can feel the cold from it. What the hell is this thing anyway?_

 **Are you going to die?**

 _I guess it looks that way. I never thought I'd die such a screw-up though…_

 **Do you want to?**

 _No! Of course I don't want to die!_

 **Prove it.**

 _I can't. I can barely breathe, much less fight. I'm all used up after that tumble._

 **So you're going to give up?**

 _I have no choice…_

 **Or you don't want to look for another choice.**

λ

Seconds ticked away like infinite eternities, Lincoln's deadened eyes staring blankly through the shadow as it approached. The creature continued its manic chittering, the perverse clattering that passed for its laugh, as it poised a claw to pierce the young man's head. It felt, in what passed for its mind, that victory was all but assured. Perhaps it would have been were the creature just a little more observant. It failed to notice the twitch in Lincoln's arm as his right hand tightened around his blade.

With entirely impossible speed the creature drove its claw down toward his face. It made contact with something hard, something it believed to be the man's head. It had not seen him move his head only a few centimeters to the left. With such a minor adjustment Lincoln averted the fatal blow, a mere slice on his cheek the only testament to the sharpness of the shadow's claw.

The creature processed this newest development for only a moment before yanking its claw from the stone wall. With the same deftness it lined up another strike, this time for Lincoln's heart. It launched the attack in a flash, Lincoln leaping to his feet and avoiding yet another fatal blow. This time however he received more than a little scratch for his trouble. With some small satisfaction the shadow watched a trickle of blood pour slowly from the man's abdomen.

Its chittering resumed for a few moments until it attempted to remove its claw. A pain resounded through the creature upon its endeavor to move. The pain originated from its own chest where, upon inspection, it could see the man's blade poked through. Suddenly the satisfied chitter was replaced with a panicked screech. The shadow frantically tried to remove itself from the end of Lincoln's blade, a shadowy ichor leaking from the grievous wound. It quickly became clear the struggle was useless, however. With a final intent of murderous fury the shadow raised its other claw high into the air, determined to remove Lincoln's head entirely.

It swung with all the strength it could muster, though perhaps only a fraction of a second too late. Just as the claw was to make contact with the young man's neck the entire creature evaporated, a puff of black dust tickling his face instead. With a faint chuckle Lincoln dropped his blade and collapsed to the floor.

"I just played chicken with death…" he muttered, to no one in particular.

He gingerly reached down to touch the hole in his gut, a sick curiosity as to the severity of the wound gripping his mind. With absent mindedness he stared at the hand now smeared with his own blood, chuckling once again as he remembered the details imparted by his great-grandfather's journal. Sudden reality dawned upon him as he comprehended exactly what manner of monster the man must have been. To be able to survive such a place, to live for weeks at a time in this hellish pit, was surely impossible for a mere mortal.

This eerily amusing line of thought filled his mind with an unnatural calm as he sat there, bleeding his life away on the cold dungeon floor. His mind began to fill with thoughts of his sister. He wondered if there was any chance he could get out of here. He wondered if there was any way he could support them without risking death at every turn like this. He wondered if there was any chance she could survive without him.

This last thought, along with its obvious answer, struck a new jolt of determination into his battered body. He knew she was as good as dead the minute he drew his last breath. With this knowledge Lincoln willed his aching bones to stand, clutching his bleeding stomach in pain. On wobbly legs he walked over to the pieces of his breastplate, brand-new only a little over an hour earlier. There on the ground, just under the upper half of the armor, was the amulet.

He stared at it for a few moments, his eyes transfixed on the strange symbols crawling across the simple silver surface. Perhaps from shock or perhaps from blood loss, he wasn't sure why the runes looked to be crawling around like they were alive. Yet he couldn't remove his fascinated gaze from the amulet lying there on the ground.

At last he moved once more, slowly reaching down to pick it up. His bloody fingers only barely touched it when a bright flash of light consumed his vision. So intense was the shine it darkened out every detail all around him. It was only for a moment but it was quite enough to knock his senses from him, sending Lincoln keeling over to the ground. His consciousness faded quickly as the flash of the amulet subsided, the room around him darkening once again.

As the last bit of his sight faded away he could barely make out the silhouette of two figures rounding the corner at the entrance of the room. Neither looked right for such a dangerous place, though Lincoln had no grounds to judge. One was lanky with a shimmery appearance, completely lacking any real detail in his blurred vision. The other was very short and ridiculously round on top, looking like a walking leg of chicken.

He considered the possibility they might be monsters for only a moment before his vision faded entirely and his world went black.

Θ

Bell and Lily sauntered along the bluish stone paths of floor four as they headed back to the surface. A slightly uncomfortable air hung around the two, Lily thoroughly embarrassed to find out she'd forgotten a very important item for their foray to the tenth floor. She had spent the last hour of their walk back furiously apologizing for the mistake, to which Bell tried to assure her there was no issue. Now they walked along in vaguely uncomfortable silence to fetch the forgotten item.

As the two turned a corner the entire dungeon lit up at once with light the likes of which neither had ever seen. The brightness of every lamp in Orario would surely have been dwarfed by this sudden flash of furious brilliance. So bright was it that their vision was rendered useless for nearly a minute after the light had left, gone as quickly as it had appeared. The two rubbed their eyes in shock, trying to coax their sight back from the blindness.

"Mr. Bell, what was that?" Lily called out as her vision gradually returned.

"I have no idea, Lily, but I think I heard something just ahead." Bell replied.

The two lingered for a moment as their sight returned entirely, not wanting to risk an ambush even on this high a floor. Ever the cautious one Bell took the lead and ran towards the perceived source of the sound. Lily followed suit close behind, keeping her wrist-bow at the ready for anything that might decide to use this opportunity to strike.

They rounded a few corners before coming to a large, square room with no apparent exit. There on the ground lay a young man, though clearly much older than Bell, with a small pool of blood around his abdomen.

β

Lillian had woken up early this day, perhaps just an hour shy of seeing her brother off. The note she'd found upon waking was plenty enough to sate her curiosity as to her brother's whereabouts. She knew he was anxious to get everything in order for their new life here and did not hold it against him that he would go seeking a Familia on their first day. Of course, she would have had not one word of it if she'd known what he actually intended to do. Yet blissful ignorance of her brother's true intentions had given Lillian the drive to do something for their situation herself.

With that drive she had decided to pester the innkeeper regarding her own employment. She knew Lincoln would be beyond angry but decided to do it anyway. This seemed as good a way as any for her to aid their progress in this foreign place they were now calling home. On top of that it seemed a good way to secure more long-term living for the both of them. So with these determinations she had managed to pull together a decent argument and convince the innkeeper to hire her.

This was how Lillian spent the better portion of her first day in Orario. Working as much as she could around the inn, which served as a café of a sort during the early morning and midday. She worked herself very hard indeed, at least for her standards, carrying off and washing dirty dishes. Though she had to take many breaks, the innkeeper was quite impressed with the fervor with which this young girl tackled the duties he gave her.

Her emerald eyes seemed alight with the passion of a newly realized purpose. Indeed it only took a few hours of this to fill her soul with the feeling of being useful once more. A feeling she'd desperately missed since the passing of her dear parents. Though they wouldn't let her perform near the amount of work she was now being tasked with, she had still found fulfilment in the meager tasks they would give her.

So passed the satisfying yet otherwise uneventful day for young Lillian. A myriad of new faces and personalities filing in and out of the café until one in particular came in. As the day had waned into the later hours, passing towards evening, a certain individual stormed into the establishment. The woman's arrival brought what was quite possibly the worst news Lillian could have imagined with her.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Lillian Ansley!" the woman huffed between haggard breaths, cursing her lack of physical exercise.

"I'm Lillian. Is everything okay?" she responded, setting down the small pile of dishes she was about to carry away.

"It's about your brother. He's in critical condition at the Guild's main clinic on Babel Tower's first floor. Your attendance is urgently required."

Thankfully Lillian had set the pile of dishes down, for at those words her entire body became numb at once. The words had only partly sunk in but she understood enough to very nearly pass out then and there. She could do little more than stare the woman down, her heart hollowed with disquiet.

Almost a ghost of herself from the shock, Lillian followed the woman out the door without any purposeful intent of her own. The jog to Babel Tower was not obscenely far but it felt like an eternity to her racing heart.

Ψ

"What happened to this one?" asked an older woman wearing a simple black coat over equally simple white dress attire.

"I'm not sure, doctor. Some whitehaired kid and a prum dropped him off just a few minutes ago." Responded a younger woman, this one dressed in a white outfit with red accents.

The doctor stepped closer to the patient sprawled out on the gurney in front of her. She leaned over to exam him more closely, looking for any wounds besides the obvious puncture in his gut. Immediately she could make out various bruises all over his body, noting some particularly deeply colored ones that were likely fractured bones.

"He's pretty battered but we need to roll him over. I'm worried something might be wrong with his spine based on this dark bruising around the ribs." She said to her younger colleague.

The two cautiously rolled the young man on his side then over onto his front, taking extra care to ensure the uniformity of his body's alignment as they did. Looking him over thoroughly, poking his back lightly just to be sure, the doctor breathed a sigh of relief. He was pretty bad off from the blood loss and the battering he'd clearly taken, but at least it seemed his spine was intact. It was a step toward survival, even if only a minor one.

"Go get the advisors on duty." The doctor ordered her assistant, "We need to identify him as soon as we can. His spine's good but he's lost a lot of blood. It's not looking good for him…"

The nurse didn't hesitate at all, nearly bolting from the room as soon as the doctor had imparted her orders. Over the next few minutes the doctor examined him further, noting some likely fractures along the back of his ribs. It wasn't long before the nurse returned.

"I've sent the message, Ma'am. They should be here shortly."

"Good, now help me turn him back over. After that I need you to go find Risa. We're going to need to coordinate a combined healing spell if this guy has any hope of pulling through."

They turned the man onto his back once more, this time with even more caution than before so as not to upset any of the possible fractures. Once it was done the nurse left the room with the same haste. This time she returned almost immediately, a younger doctor in the same dark getup in tow. The two doctors set to work immediately, reciting incantations over the battered man.

The room was filled with a green glow when Eina arrived with three of her coworkers. She was already preparing herself for the worst, being that advisors were only called to the clinic when a prognosis was particularly grim. It was one of their final duties for lesser known adventurers that were lucky enough to pass away on the surface. The advisors would identify them if at all possible or at least note the appearance to relay to other advisors once their shift started. With this those that would otherwise simply be reported as missing in action could have their situation relayed to any relevant individuals. Conversely, if no individuals of significant relevance existed, they could provide an official obituary should the worst come to pass.

Having prepared for this horrid duty once more Eina was even still caught off guard when she walked into the room. Seeing the young man she'd signed up just that morning was more of a shock than she'd readied herself for. Indeed, she had been a part of this disheartening process several times already in her career. Yet never had she been presented with one so recently sent into the Dungeon's maw.

"I know him…" Eina spoke up after having gathered her thoughts, "His name is Lincoln Ansley. He's a fresh enlistee."

"How fresh?" asked the older doctor.

"He signed up as a free adventurer today." Eina replied, her head hung low.

"Is he yours, then?" Risa chimed in.

"Yes. What's his chances looking like?"

Both doctors took a moment to consider, looking at the young man under their healing light, before offering their response.

"Well, it looks like he has a few days, tops. Unless we can pull off a miracle that is." Risa finally answered.

Eina became slightly more despondent before her mind lit up with a tiny flicker of hope. It was a longshot but she figured it was worth asking at least.

"Any ideas where a miracle could come from, then?" she asked, hoping there might be something.

"Well…" Risa responded, wracking her mind for any ideas at all, "If we could find a God or Goddess willing then the power of their Falna could give his body just enough strength to hold on. Only Gods can see Excelia, but it looks like this guy has been through a lot and the boost should be a little more than usual. It's a total crapshoot but it's our only other option besides just waiting and hoping."

"Does he have any family, Eina?" this time the older doctor had spoken up.

"Yes, as I recall his papers said he has a kid sister staying at the Falling Sky Inn just off West Main." Eina replied.

"Send someone to get her." The older woman coldly ordered.

"I will immediately, Ma'am!" Eina called out, turning and leaving the room.

The young half-elf said a silent prayer as she walked briskly down the hallway. The determination to prevent another needless death burned in her heart, though she knew the chances were ridiculously slim. All the same a fervor fueled her as she navigated through the twists and turns of the Guild Hall within Babel. She could think of only one Goddess that might be willing to accept someone on such short notice and for such a ridiculous reason. Though it wasn't her business, and in all honesty it was against the Guild's laissez-faire policy, Eina was determined to do what she could to fight the Dungeon's claim this time. If she could have her way the Dungeon would never take another Orarian again.

Eina finally made her way into the Guild's front office, flinging the doors open violently. She briefly stopped to speak to a coworker, abdicating the task of fetching Lillian to her, before heading out the front door. With purpose in her step and duty blazing in her heart, Eina set off to find a certain diminutive deity. She said a silent prayer in hope of a successful negotiation.

Θ

Bell had just finished relaying the events of his day to Hestia, the two sitting down to begin their dinner, when he noticed an odd sensation in his pocket. He reached down to feel for the intrusive object as he continued a light-hearted conversation with his Goddess. The two laughed and chattered along as Bell dug around in his pocket, eventually fishing out an amulet. He held it up to have a look, realizing he'd forgotten to leave it with the adventurer at the clinic. Hestia's eye was also drawn to the glinting amulet in her child's hand.

"What's that cha got there, Bell?" she called playfully.

"Oh, I picked it up earlier when me and Lily took that injured guy to the clinic. I must've forgotten to leave it with him…" Bell sighed in response.

"Let me have a look at it. Something's off…" the diminutive Goddess said, reaching across the table for the amulet.

Without hesitation Bell handed it to her. Hestia then sat back in her seat, carefully turning the amulet over in her hands as she examined it closely. Her interest hadn't been drawn because of its make or something so mundane. No, her Godly eyes had spotted an odd aura coming from it. An aura she'd never before beheld. Now, holding it in her hands and looking closer upon it, she could see a strange set of hieroglyphs all along it.

She marveled at the seemingly ordinary jewelry covered in a script very similar to what the Gods used to carve their Falna. Yet try as she might she couldn't make heads or tails of it, this being quite a surprise as virtually all she'd ever spent her time on was reading. Even when she still resided in Tenkai, Hestia had passed eternity in the Great Library pouring through anything she could reach. This came to an amazing amount given her height.

"Is there something strange about it, Goddess?" rang Bell's voice, breaking her from her musings.

"No… Not really." She replied, handing the amulet back, "You should probably give it back. Wouldn't want him to think you'd stolen it, eh Bell?"

Bell took the amulet and had a closer look himself, not convinced that it was ordinary after watching his Goddess stare so intently at it. Yet, no matter which way he looked at it, Bell could make out nothing different about the amulet. To his eyes it was just an ordinary hunk of silver on a broken chain. His eyes crawled over it a little while longer until the frantic calls of a familiar voice broke his thoughts.

Bell stuffed the amulet back into his pocket as he leapt from his seat and turned on his heel. In the blink of an eye he bolted up the stairs leading into the church. Hestia, having heard nothing herself, followed behind him as she called out asking him what was wrong.

"Goddess, someone sounds like they're in trouble outside!" Bell called back to her, now leaving their secret room under the church.

He had already bolted out the front door by the time Hestia had reached the top of the stairs. Being more cautious than Bell, Hestia paused for a moment to look around the church. Satisfied that all was well she followed him out the front door.

There stood Bell with an alarmed look on his face as Eina spoke to him, bowing frantically for some reason Hestia could only guess. She walked up to them to join in the conversation.

"Miss Advisor, what brings you here so late?" Hestia asked as she approached.

"Goddess Hestia, I have a favor to ask you!" Eina replied with distress.

"Oh? Are you sure that's ok, Miss Advisor?" Hestia's tone was almost playful, oblivious to the severity of Eina's situation.

"It's about the adventurer Mr. Bell rescued earlier. He's in really bad shape, worse than they'd thought at first. I realize I'm stepping outside of my authority and role as a Guild employee but I have to ask for your help."

Hestia caught on to the gravity of the situation as she listened to Eina prattle on. It always irked her just a bit how formal the advisor always was but she ignored the feeling this time. Instead Hestia's face took on an air of seriousness very unlike her.

"Be careful what you're about to ask me, Miss Advisor." She began, "I'd rather not think you would request that I break any rules."

"Goddess Hestia, I…" Eina started to reply, stopping as she thought through her next words carefully, "I'm asking you to conscript this man into your Familia. He signed on with us just this morning as a free adventurer. I warned him not to go into the Dungeon so soon, and he probably deserves this for his idiocy, but I don't want to watch another adventurer die if I can help it. His only chance is to receive a Blessing, since it might give him just enough strength to pull through."

Hestia stared at the half-elf with incredulity, thoroughly taken aback by the sudden breakaway from her typically professional demeanor. She had to chew over Eina's words for a moment before deciding on what she felt was a proper response.

"Well, sounds like he's pretty desperate. But do you think he's desperate enough to join us?" Hestia asked, her tone impish but her face dead serious.

"I don't know him well enough to answer that, but you're his only hope. I can't imagine he'd be ungrateful for you saving him, Goddess Hestia."

Eina's reply was just what Hestia had wanted to hear. She cracked a goofy smile and clapped her hands together.

"Alright then, Miss Advisor. I'll do this for you if you can promise the Guild won't get on my case about it."

"I will take full responsibility, Goddess Hestia." Eina replied with a deep bow.

With that the three set off for the clinic with all haste, Eina's heart pounding as she considered just how much of a menace this newbie was turning into already. At least now Bell wasn't the worst headache she had to deal with.


	7. Divine Mandate

Chapter 6

Divine Mandate

Ψ

The room was alight with the soft green glow of healing magic, pulsing in time with the heartbeat of a dying young man. He lay under the convalescing energies of two women dressed in black coats, seriousness etched onto their features as they performed their art. The two women couldn't have been more opposite, the one unifying factor being that they were doctors working for the guild. The younger one was pouring everything she had into holding herself together, concentrating solely on the task at hand. The older, though equally concerned with her patient, spared also a thought for the young girl leaning against the far wall behind her.

This young girl, sister to the dying man under the green glow, stared with empty eyes at the scene before her. She'd been brought here by a guild advisor earlier, quite the shock being dropped on her after what had been a mostly fine day. The woman had burst into her happy bubble and brought the entire world crashing down around her with terrible news. The advisor relayed everything she knew, which was very little in the grand scheme, detailing Lincoln's terrible condition and asking Lillian to accompany her to the clinic. Since that moment she had virtually been on autopilot.

Now, with the flashing green light accenting the glow of her emerald eyes, she listlessly watched the doctors doing everything they could to hold her brother on this side of the veil. Yet the graveness etched into their faces told her all she needed to know. She could see the words turning and mulling in their heads as the discomfort of the situation permeated their aura. Lillian was certain the two were trying to figure out how to tell her she was going to be alone soon.

With these thoughts flowing through her shattered mind, Lillian watched the labored rise and fall of her brother's chest as he struggled to take in gasps of air. She intently gazed upon the wrappings across his stomach, soaked with blood and having only just ceased further bleeding. She watched with all the worry her heart could contain as grim certainty settled itself within her.

From across the room, peeking through the door, there sat a pair of sapphire-blue eyes trained on the brooding girl, twin black ponytails twitching with concern almost as if alive. The face holding these eyes was a pallid tint akin to ivory, childish in its shape. The owner of these features stood perhaps only a centimeter or two higher than the girl she was watching. This person could have come across as a lost child that had stumbled across a bleak setting and grown concerned for one of those in the room. However this was not the case.

The pair of sapphire eyes belonged to a living, breathing deity that had decided recently to live among mortals. This diminutive woman, deceivingly girlish in appearance, was in fact Hestia the Goddess of the Hearth. Given her charge and sphere of affluence she was afforded a deep caring and concern for nearly all the sentient mortal races, those the Gods refer to as the children. Due to that concern she had just arrived here after following her only child's personal Guild Advisor.

The half-elf, Eina Tulle, had interrupted a dinner Hestia had been looking forward to for quite some time. She had just sat down and struck up a small conversation with Bell when this situation blew in. Yet once Eina had explained what was going on to them Hestia couldn't even contemplate denying her aid. With some reservation she had followed the half-elf here and was now shyly peeking around the doorframe to behold the somber scene within. Suddenly becoming aware that she was acting the part of her appearance, Hestia straightened herself up and stepped into the room with as much confidence as she could muster. Eina and Bell followed close behind as the Goddess approached the young girl across the room.

"It's going to be ok, young lady." Hestia said with as much reassurance in her words as she could muster.

Lillian broke her gaze away from her brother, turning to meet Hestia's deep blue eyes. The Goddess' heart sank immediately when she got a good look at just how distraught the girl's soul truly was. As a divine being she could see the true heart of all mortals, lending truth to the notion that one could not lie to a God. As she peered within this girl's true mind, her soul, Hestia was overtaken with the gravity of Lillian's dejection.

"I promise you it'll be ok." Hestia reiterated herself, laying a comforting hand on Lillian's shoulder.

She turned to the older doctor and tapped her shoulder. The woman turned her gaze to the Goddess, expertly maintaining her concentration on the spell.

"Are you sure there's nothing else you can do for him, doctor?" Hestia inquired, an air of seriousness about her.

"Yes, Goddess. He's on death's door as it is and he's only getting worse." The doctor paused for a moment, looking at the man before continuing, "Your blessing might give him the strength to pull through and it might not. Either way it's better than simply waiting for the inevitable."

Hestia turned once again to Lillian, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a light shake to grab her attention. The girl locked eyes with the Goddess in response to this. Though slightly unnerved by the rivers flowing silently from the girl's eyes, Hestia forced herself to speak.

"Listen to me, I have to ask you something." She began, a slight tremble on her lip, "I'm not a rich or influential Goddess. What I'm about to do is going to rope you both into my Familia. It's going to be hard and uncomfortable but I promise I'll treat you both like my own children. So, will you both be okay having such a poor Goddess for a leader?"

Hestia's own heart was filled with trepidation. She'd been trying for months to recruit members to her Familia, the only successful attempt being Bell. Since then she'd been watching as her faithful child went to brave the dungeon day after day, risking death like it was nothing unusual. She'd had to sit by and watch him nearly die so many times and all the while she couldn't find a single soul willing to accept her blessing. She couldn't find another person to recruit to help Bell.

Now, with this opportunity laid before her there was no way she could turn it down. Perhaps it was a little selfish, but the largest reason Hestia was here was in hopes of finally recruiting someone to help _her_ Bell stay alive in that pit. Yet she still had to ask if it was okay, as she knew many adventurers would rather die than be stuck with a Goddess as poor and unheard of as herself. So Hestia held her breath and braced herself for whatever this girl might answer on behalf of her brother.

"Can you help him?" came Lillian's voice at last, weak and lifelessly cold.

"I can give him my blessing. From there it's up to his body and spirit." Hestia answered flatly.

"If your blessing will help him at all then there's no question. Please, Goddess. Please save my brother…"

"You heard her, doctor. Turn him over and let me see what I can do." Hestia called out, turning and approaching the gurney.

The doctors ceased their spell and set quickly to work, carefully turning Lincoln over onto his stomach. They took care to keep him in alignment and make sure his face was tilted enough to breathe. The younger doctor took hold of his wrist and began counting quietly as Hestia climbed atop the gurney. The tiny Goddess sat herself as comfortably as she could on Lincoln's thighs. She reached down and unceremoniously tore the last of his shirt apart, revealing the man's entire back. She then removed a needle from one of her hairpins and without so much as a flinch pricked her right pointer finger.

The Goddess kneaded her finger for a few moments, squeezing out a few drops of inky black blood onto Lincoln's back. The moment it landed it soaked into his skin like water upon parched dirt. From here she set to work imparting the blessing of her falna unto the dying man beneath her.

Θ

Bell watched in rapt silence the scene unfolding before him. He stared intently as his Goddess imparted her blessing upon another, effectively inducting a new member into their Familia. The process that had been performed on him only a few weeks earlier was infinitely fascinating to the young boy. He'd received her blessing after many failed attempts to join other Familia. Now thinking back on it he was quite happy it had ended up this way, even though he'd been forced to learn all the dangers of the dungeon by himself.

Now he watched as a new member finally joined him, if he were in fact to live. Though it was not Bell's fault by any stretch of the imagination this fact would not stop him from lamenting the man's situation. Bell's kind heart, which had thus far steered him to no end of trouble, wouldn't let him off without feeling guilty. Perhaps, he thought, he could've done something had he arrived on the scene sooner.

As these thoughts passed through his head Bell reflexively tightened his grip on the simple silver amulet in his right hand. The very same amulet he'd found alongside this man's crumpled form in the dungeon. Now as he watched the man being inducted into the Familia alongside him, his life quite possibly hanging by the thread of fate, he unwittingly squeezed the amulet with all his might.

His ruby red eyes glowed like fire as he gazed upon the ritual before him. He watched with rapt intrigue as Hestia drew shapes on the man's back with her Ichor. In response to this a blue glow had formed and begun to resonate with ever increasing presence. This glow eventually gave way to a bright blue orb that emerged from Lincoln's back, coming to rest at the Goddess' eyelevel. All eyes in the room were firmly fixed on this orb of light as the diminutive Goddess poked and prodded it, seeking something no other knew of.

"Goddess, we're starting to lose him." Came the younger doctor's voice, distress clear in her tone.

"I'm going as quickly as I can." Hestia replied with some degree of annoyance, "He's got lots of excelia to go through, but there's something more. There's a fog permeating his spirit and I'm having trouble finding everything."

The doctor's brow furrowed with worry as she felt the man's pulse gradually slowing to a crawl. She watched his back with anxiety as his breathing gradually slowed almost to a halt along with his pulse. She knew that regardless of how quickly Hestia moved the situation was very quickly degrading. Yet, with a deep sigh to calm herself, the young doctor merely kept counting his pulse and hoped for the best.

Bell continued to stare as Hestia worked the orb around in the air. Her pallid skin lit up like the waters of a clear stream in the faint glow. Her tiny hands and fingers worked their way within the light as she searched for some unseen information. Her furrowed brow and pursed lips clearly gave away her own unease over the situation.

"Goddess…" the younger doctor called once more.

"What is it now?!" Hestia nearly yelled in response.

"His pulse is gone and his breathing has stopped."

Hestia now began to sweat profusely as she pushed herself to go even faster, looking for the last few bits of his life experiences that she could use. She searched with all the haste she could muster, intent to draw out every last bit of excelia to make his status as strong as possible.

"Goddess Hestia, you've done enough." Now the older doctor spoke, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"No!" Hestia shouted, violently swatting the doctor's hand away, "I'm not done yet!"

Lillian, partially snapped out of her trancelike state, stepped wobbly to the gurney before falling to her knees. She looked up at the Goddess on top of her brother before grabbing hold of his left hand, trying to imitate the method the younger doctor was using to find his pulse. It was still as could be, no movement of even the slightest degree within. Even had she figured out how to do it right there would've been no pulse to feel.

"That's not possible…" Lillian whispered.

Hestia didn't notice her at all, so busy was she putting the finishing touches onto the falna. She could see the faintest flicker of his still-living soul burning within the young man's heart. She knew it was almost gone but she pushed herself to finish the process regardless, holding onto the slightest hope it might help.

"He can't be dead 'cause Gods don't lie!" Lillian yelled as her emotions finally overwhelmed her.

The entire room jumped slightly at the robust outburst from the petite girl leaning against the gurney. Even Hestia very nearly slipped as she was pressing the glowing orb back within its possessor. Once she had settled it back in place, the blue glow gradually fading away, Hestia lowered herself from the gurney and watched with bated breath. Slowly but surely a script of the blackest shade fathomable etched its way across Lincoln's back, marking out the newly imbued blessing. It had covered roughly half of his back when the process suddenly halted itself.

"This can't be…" Hestia murmured in disbelief, "I put everything I had into it…"

Everyone stood in silence staring at the now lifeless form before them, the only sounds being the occasional whimpered sob from Lillian. Even Eina began to tear up ever so slightly as the depressing scene played out. The younger doctor quietly and carefully placed the man's hand back by his side before stepping back and bowing in respect. Lillian lifted herself to stand on her wobbling feet, gazing upon her brother as her eyes filled tears. Nothing could have held them back when she threw herself upon him, wailing like a banshee.

"I'm so sorry…" Hestia softly whispered.

Bell just watched in total disbelief, now faced with the true fallibility of the mortal Gods living upon Gekai. He watched in disbelief as his hand gripped the amulet ever tighter, completely failing to notice the faint glow from within his palm. Along with this glow came a gradually building heat until at last it happened.

The falna on Lincoln's back shone brightly for just a moment before a bone-rattling crack reverberated throughout the room. Within an instant a light akin to the brightness of the sun filled the small clinic room. For the few moments that followed none could either see or hear, rendered deaf and blind by the amulet Bell had been holding. In the blink of an eye it had shattered and disintegrated completely leaving not even dust behind. Now rendered incapable of any real perception, none in the room noticed the departure of a faint presence. None save for Hestia, who just barely felt a shift in the aura of the room. Gradually their sight returned, though all within the clinic room were still mostly deafened. They rubbed their ringing ears when an entirely unbelievable sight caught their collective attention.

The younger doctor fainted almost immediately, her colleague having to take a seat on a nearby stool. Hestia's mouth hung comically ajar, much the same as Eina's, as she stared at the gurney. Bell did not notice immediately, as he had been trying to assure himself that his hand remained intact. When his attention did shift back to the dead man on the gurney he too was consumed with shock. All waking eyes were trained in utter disbelief upon the gurney.

There Lincoln lay, the falna glowing brightly as it finished etching itself across his back. His breathing was shallow and slow, but it was there. Lillian, whose ear had been pressed to her brother's back as she wailed, ceased her cries almost instantly. Her ear was filled with the sound of Lincoln's heart beating once more, having been shielded from the raucous blast just minutes earlier.

None of those present would be able to agree on what they saw that day. Decades would pass as the two doctors continuously argued over what had actually occurred in that clinic room. Yet all would agree they had witnessed something entirely impossible for one reason or another. Lillian however was entirely lost in relief as she hugged her once more living brother.

For weeks after Hestia's ear would be filled with the constant thanks of this elated sibling.

Ω

The clinic room was occupied by quite a few people on the morning Lincoln finally awoke. Through his waking haze he could make out a few feminine voices and a single male voice chattering back and forth to each other, something about adventure being said here and there. With what felt like a monumental effort he slowly opened his eyes, very nearly blinded by the light of late morning pouring in through the window.

His sight was immediately overtaken by the predominately white room, occupied by a single other gurney beside his own. Lincoln turned his head to look at the gurney, his awakened condition still unnoticed. There lay a white haired boy, perhaps only in his mid-teens, thoroughly surrounded by women of all types. A young prum girl with shoulder-length chestnut colored hair sat beside an equally youthful girl with two long black ponytails. On his other side stood three women, two of them in black coats and one in the uniform standard for guild employees.

Lincoln's eyes had yet to adjust to seeing once more, so he failed to recognize the half-elf standing among the two doctors. Yet by their posture and tone he could infer they were fussing at the boy laying on the gurney. Lincoln considered just how much of a fuss was waiting for him as he recalled exactly what he'd recently done. Of course he wouldn't mind being fussed at for the rest of his life, simply too grateful to be awake and alive at all.

As these thoughts passed through his head the half-elf noticed his opened eyes at last. Her gaze locked on him immediately as her mouth opened to speak.

"I see our other overconfident adventurer is finally awake." She said with no small hint of irritation.

"Brother!" came an all too familiar squeal.

Lincoln barely managed to turn in time to catch a glimpse of his sister in mid-jump, on course to crash right on top of him. She landed with a small thud, hugging Lincoln tightly enough to hurt. He cursed the still healing wounds in his mind as she sobbed quietly, clearly relieved to see him awake.

"Brother, I thought I'd lost you…" she managed to speak between gasps.

Lincoln wrapped an arm around his weeping sister, patting her head lightly with his free hand to try and calm her down. He was elated to see her, knowing for sure that he was still among the living now. Yet through his elation a curiosity itched in the back of his head as he wondered exactly how he'd survived his bout of idiocy.

"Lillian, I'm okay." He calmly spoke, "Are you alright?"

"I'm much better now that you're awake, brother." She replied with a raspy voice, most likely caused by days of tears.

"You know, boy, you're lucky to be alive. Don't just say you're okay so nonchalantly." Scolded one of the women in black.

Lincoln lowered his head in shame at this, knowing fully well that he was entirely to blame for Lillian's worry. He had no room to try and justify himself, neither logically or otherwise. After all he'd rushed into the dungeon on his first day without any preparation, entirely on a whim. Even had he tried to give some excuse for why, there would be nothing he could make up that would hold water. He had simply been stupid.

"I'm glad to be alive, ma'am." He responded after a few moments.

"Speaking of that, there's someone here you should thank." The woman replied.

Lincoln lifted his head in curiosity and looked to the woman. She stood where she was the last time he'd looked her way, though now her right pointer finger was stuck out toward the girl with the black ponytails. The young-looking girl had turned around and was now looking at Lincoln with a giant goofy smile across her face. He almost laughed at the sight, barely holding it in out of respect.

"I'm not sure what she means, but thank you miss." Lincoln spoke, giving a slight bow of his head.

"Don't you think 'miss' is a little informal for your new Goddess, hm?" the girl replied.

Lincoln didn't fully comprehend what she'd said at first, instead raising his head and meeting her gaze with a deeply confused look. The girl was now preening with great pride over something. It took a few moments before the gears in his head finally started to turn and connect the dots. As his face began to redden from shame, Lincoln bowed his head again. This time it was as deeply as he could.

"I'm sorry, Goddess!" he nearly yelled in surprise, "Thank you for saving me!"

The girl let out a satisfied 'humph' as she looked down on the young man, now trying his best to prostrate himself on the gurney. After a moment he looked back up and once again wore a confused look on his face.

"Um, excuse me Goddess…" he began, heart beating like a drum, "What did you mean by 'my new Goddess'?"

"Oh, I conscripted you into my familia to save you." She replied bluntly, "My falna gave you the nudge to pull through."

The two doctors behind her exchanged an uneasy glance to each other, still quite unsure if what they'd seen nearly a week earlier was the result of the Goddess' intervention or some other unknown force. The Goddess simply continued her happy little rant, completely ignorant of the glares behind her.

"I'm Hestia and you're now a member of my familia! I'm glad to finally meet ya, Lincoln!" she beamed.

"Mister Ansley, please try not to be so irresponsible now." This time the half-elf spoke, drawing Lincoln's gaze to her.

With the fog of being freshly awoken cleared from his eyes he could now see it was the very same half-elf that had enlisted him with the Guild. He stared for a few moments, trying to remember her name. At last it finally came to him.

"Miss Eina, I'm sorry if I've caused you any trouble." He replied to her, deep remorse in his tone.

"I'll forgive you…" She spoke softly, "but only if you can promise not to be a bad influence on your fellow adventurer here. He's already reckless enough on his own."

Lincoln looked to the boy on the bed, whose face was also swallowed up with shame. He sat there uncomfortably, staring at his sheets as Eina prattled on about his reckless nature. At last though, something she said caught Lincoln's ear.

"I'm sorry Miss Eina, but did you say something about a Minotaur?" Lincoln asked with new curiosity.

"You were tuning me out weren't you?" Eina replied, irritation plastered across her face, "Yes, I said this boy is a member of your new familia. He's also one of the adventurers, like you, that I work with directly. He's in this clinic with you because he decided to take on a Minotaur by himself."

Lincoln's mind was briefly drawn to Francis' journal, remembering the entry regarding his great-grandfather's fight with one of those beasts. Judging by the tone in Eina's voice he concluded the monster must present an even greater danger than he'd first imagined. He looked the boy over carefully, wondering exactly how he could've pulled off such a miracle.

"Um, my name's Bell…" the boy spoke at last.

"Oh, uh… I'm Lincoln. Lincoln Ansley." he stuttered, pulling himself from his musings.

"Well, I've got something awesome to tell you both." Hestia chimed in, interrupting their greeting. Her face bore an odd mix of pride and anxiety.

"Goddess, are you sure now's a good time?" Eina asked worriedly.

"Of course!" she replied, "It'll get them pumped up to get out of here quicker!"

The Goddess took a deep breath, puffing out her ample chest with pride as she prepared her great announcement. Her face still held the funny mix of pride and something akin to worry, but it was obvious she'd been trying to contain herself and could no longer hold the news in.

"You're both level twos!" she shouted at last, so loudly the entire room jumped in surprise.

Lincoln had no idea at all what she meant by this. He merely tilted his head quizzically as he looked at the bubbly Goddess. Her giddiness was reason enough for him to assume it was something amazing, this guess confirmed by a sudden girly squeal. Lincoln was quite surprised to note the boy, Bell, was the source of the squeal.

"Goddess! How's that possible?!" Bell cried out in disbelief.

"Well, you took down a monster much stronger than yourself Bell. As for your new companion, I have no idea." Hestia answered very flatly, "But does it really matter? This means you have someone to help you out in the dungeon!"

The girl with the chestnut colored hair turned an agitated gaze to the diminutive Goddess, obviously insulted for some reason Lincoln could not guess. He watched the boy gawk in surprise and begin to break out in a sweat. He still couldn't wrap his mind around exactly what level two meant and decided to try and press for further information.

"Miss Eina, could you tell me what this level two business means exactly?" Lincoln asked timidly.

"Well, I can tell you what it means by the book." Eina replied with a nod, "Simply put, you're among the ranks of adventurers that have put years into their work. Before you and Bell here, the only person to reach this rank in under a year's time was the Kenki."

At the mention of this strange word Lincoln could clearly see Bell begin to blush from head to toe. The boy suddenly bowed his head, obscuring his reddening face with his bangs, as if he were deeply embarrassed about something. Eina simply continued as Lincoln made note of this strange reaction.

"So essentially, the two of you have progressed to the point of being considered veteran adventurers." Eina paused for a moment after this, a look of something like nausea washing across her face. She cleared her throat, adjusted her glasses and continued.

"Why this has happened, or how it's even possible, is entirely beyond any reasoning. I'm sure even the Gods would have little in the way of useful answers for this quandary."

"Yes, well," Now Hestia had piped in, her goofy smile replaced with a gravity unbefitting her immature face, "Bell's got something special in him for sure. As for you, Lincoln… You're a little off yourself…"

Lincoln couldn't make heads or tails of her as she drifted into thought. The statement raised even more questions instead of giving him any answers.

"I don't get this." Lincoln reiterated himself, "I just signed up to adventure, and I didn't have a blessing. How can I be considered a veteran without doing anything?"

Hestia and Eina shared a very worried look, glancing between Bell and Lincoln as they contemplated how to answer. Finally, with a look of defeat on the both of them, Eina spoke up.

"According to all available knowledge you can't possibly be level two." She said with sincerity and worry, "Yet, you are. Goddess Hestia has read and reread your status thirty times over now. There's no way around declaring it: you're a level two adventurer with not even a day's experience."

Lincoln could feel all eyes in the room trained on him, almost akin to a crowd awaiting some politician's declaration of war. The feeling was quite unsettling as he was leered at like some kind of sideshow attraction. Even Bell, who was the same level as him apparently, had his eyes glued to Lincoln with awe.

At last he began to somewhat understand the gravity of what this meant. Lincoln could not help but remember when Lillian had asked if, after reading their great-grandfather's journal, they were kin to monsters. As he began to truly understand the gravity of this new development, Lincoln began to believe she might have been right on the dot. Perhaps something truly was amiss with their bloodline.

"Well, enough about scary and weird things!" piped in the other small girl in the room, "It looks like Lily is going to have another honorable adventurer to pick up after!"

The girl sported a very friendly grin across her tiny face. Her hair parted just barely enough to reveal her eyes, which were the same color as said hair, resting atop a cute little button nose.

"Lily is pleased to meet you, Mister Lincoln!" she beamed, holding out her hand to him.

Lincoln reached out to shake the offered hand, a little frightened by just how tiny it was. It felt like if he weren't incredibly cautious then it might shatter like glass within his grip.

"Hello, Lily. I'm pleased to meet you too." He replied with his own smile, "I call my sister Lily sometimes, too. Could I ask for your full name?"

"Of course!" she replied without faltering her smile, "It's Liliruka Erde."

"This one is Bell's supporter." Hestia chimed in, her tone toward Lily just a little cold, "Since you're joining us she'll be yours too."

Lincoln recalled reading about Francis having a supporter by the name of Paul. Yet he hadn't exactly been able to extrapolate an idea of what exactly a supporter did from the journal's brief entries.

"Um, what does a supporter do?" he asked.

"While the honorable adventurers fight monsters…" Lily began, stopping when she felt a glare from a certain pair of ruby red eyes. She remembered a conversation they'd had about looking down on herself and cleared her throat to start her statement over. Old habits die hard.

"I meant, we collect dropped magic stones and items while the adventurers fight. We also prepare potions and items that might come in handy during trips into the dungeon."

Lincoln nodded to this as he began to understand. Essentially Lily would be providing support, much as the title suggested, by alleviating the burden of carrying items and drops from he and Bell.

"Well Liliruka, I look forward to working with you." He said with a bow of his head.

Remembering his sister, Lincoln noticed that she hadn't moved or made a peep during this entire conversation. He turned to look her way only to find her quite asleep, her arms still wrapped around his stomach. The poor girl's eyes were still somewhat moist with tears.

"We've all been introduced to her." Hestia spoke up in an almost motherly tone, noting Lincoln's concerned gaze, "That poor girl has hardly slept a wink since all this started. I thought she had gone insane when you died on the table."

The Goddess' eyes suddenly became as large as dinner plates, alarmed when she remembered they'd all agreed not to mention the precise details of Lincoln's induction. She coughed a few times hoping that he hadn't noticed her comment as the rest of the room glared harshly upon her.

"I died?" Lincoln's question came cold and listless.

The entire room, Lillian excepted, shared a look of indecision as they wondered whether enough was enough. Hestia of course, already burdened with her secret about Bell's rare skill, decided it was best not to try and keep another.

"You died before my falna could finish itself. How you're alive probably has something to do with you being a level two immediately after receiving a blessing."

"Yeah, you were only dead for a few moments though." Bell chimed in, sharing Hestia's serious demeanor, "Your amulet exploded in my hand and blinded us all. When we could see again… Well, you were alive somehow."

"My amulet…?" was all Lincoln could manage, though his head was filled with more questions than there were stars in the sky.

"Yes." This time Lily decided to give her two cents, "Mister Bell saw a little silver amulet beside you when we found you."

"A weird little amulet…" Hestia grumbled, irritated that she'd never have a chance to try and decipher its hieroglyphs now.

Lincoln's confused glare traveled across every face in the room as he tried to determine if this was some sort of sick joke. Their faces were filled with looks that ranged from bemusement to utter disbelief. The younger doctor even looked a little sickly. By this he decided that there was some odd truth to their statements.

The hairs on Hestia's neck stood tall as the brief feeling of some unseen presence washed over her. It was gone just as quickly as it came, leaving a sense of unease in its wake.

Θ

Lincoln and Bell were discharged from the clinic a few days after the somewhat awkward introduction. Hestia had invited Lincoln and Lillian to come see their new home, to which the siblings had tentatively consented. Now all four were gathered in front of the church, Lincoln and Lillian sharing looks of utter bewilderment. They stared with bemusement upon the statue of a Goddess in front of the rundown old church, her face cracked and missing half.

"There's no way…" Lincoln muttered before running off toward the back of the church.

"What's gotten into you?!" Hestia called as she chased after him.

Lillian however did not move, instead buckling her knees and planting herself firmly upon the ground. Only a few moments later she could hear her brother yelling after her from behind the church.

"Lil! It's really here!" he shouted.

Lillian managed to stand herself, shaking off the shock somewhat, and trot off to see if it was true.

Indeed, just as they had both thought upon seeing the broken statue, there stood a lone wooden cross stuck into a bit of exposed earth. Right where the cobblestone had either been removed or worn away lay a solitary marker for some long forgotten victim of the dungeon. There were faint markings along its arms that seemed to have once been letters, now so worn as to be illegible. The siblings could only stare in shock.

"What is wrong with you two?" Hestia huffed, "Running back here like madmen to look at this old hunk of wood…"

"It's just like my great-grandfather's journal…" Lincoln muttered.

"What is?" Hestia asked in reply, now slightly agitated.

The siblings simply stood there for a moment and gawked at the shabby old cross. Lincoln was snapped out of his daze when the pack containing their belongings shifted and fell from his back.

"I know this place, Goddess." Lincoln replied, now digging through the pack for something.

He shuffled around in the large sack for a few minutes, Hestia gradually becoming impatient, before producing a neglected looking old book. Now her interest was raised, this being one of her favorite class of objects. Curiosity much the likes that afflicted her kind, that is to say the Gods, overtook her when Lincoln held it out to her.

"This is our great-grandfather's journal. Apparently he was once called Francis the Bold…"

Hestia's eyes once again became large as plates, her pulse quickening at the mention of the name. Now curious and filled with a sense of dread, she timidly took hold of the book. Her wide eyes met Lincoln's as she wrapped her tiny hands around the book.

"Don't say that name out here, Lincoln." She said with such gravity as to unsettle Lincoln's very soul.

The Goddess slowly pulled the book to her chest, her body now covered in a cold sweat. Lincoln and Lillian shared a concerned glance with each other, now thoroughly unnerved, as Hestia began to walk back to the front of the church.

Lincoln picked up his pack and shouldered it once more, grabbing his sister's hand and walking after their Goddess.

ζ

An indescribably gorgeous woman stared intently through a shimmering pool suspended in midair before her. It glowed with a soft violet light, accentuating her pallid skin that was smooth as velvet and white as snow. Her silver hair hung loosely around her elegant face, a few strands dangling in front of her stunning eyes. Her face was a blush as she intently watched a certain clear light through the mirror, her bounteous chest nearly heaving with exhilaration. Her entire body was scantly clad in the thinnest of black fabrics which clung tightly to her perfect form.

This was the Goddess of love and beauty. This was Freya, perhaps one of the most affluential residents of Gekai. This was a Goddess whose simple glance could bestill even the mightiest of monsters with a powerful sense of affection. Her mere gaze could topple the strongest will to fight, male or female.

She stared longingly through her Divine Mirror as she watched the boy she'd come to adore so obsessively. His spirit now shone even brighter than before, still as clear as the waters of Tenkai. Utterly colorless was this soul she so adored, a clear testament to the innocence of its possessor. Of course her vigilant eyes, ever watchful over her chosen prey, took vague note of two more presences alongside her obsession. Presences being all that came to her mind, being that there was no color or shine at all to their souls. They were simply there, existing beside her prized clear soul.

Yet Freya deigned not to waste her gaze upon them. She was far too busy gazing upon Bell to note anything further than the lack of any defining color or shine in these new arrivals.

Ψ

Hestia's mouth was completely ajar with disbelief as she poured through the leather book her newest child had shown her. The cold sweat had entirely dried up under the heat of her dread as she took in every single word with utter bewilderment, entirely unable to believe what sat in her hands. Just across the table from her, sitting nervously in simple wooden chairs, was the living flesh and blood of a legend she'd only ever heard rumors about.

"Listen to me, Lincoln." Hestia finally spoke, "Never mention this name again while you're in this City."

"Why is that, Goddess?" Lincoln barely managed to ask.

"Please just trust me and save yourself the heartache, ok?"

Her eyes were full of severity, telling Lincoln that her mind was on their best interests. He nodded his head in agreement but decided to press her for further information, his own curiosity getting the better of him.

"Goddess, do you know anything about my great-grandfather?" he asked with as much seriousness as he could muster.

Hestia carefully closed the book and set it on the table between them. She sighed deeply a few times as she thought hard on how to tell her new children what little she knew beyond the details of the book. Her thoughts were a mess, completely jumbled by the events of the last week. First conscripting Lincoln in an effort to save his life, only to see level two written on his status immediately after the fact. Then Bell goes and risks his life in the most blatant way yet, only to end up a level two himself. Now she finds out this new child is the progeny of Orario's most famous myth.

She'd heard about him while still up in Tenkai, drawn by the crowd of Deities gathered before Zeus' throne. All were bewildered as they watched this man's life unfolding before them, defying everything they themselves knew of the Children below. One miracle after another until at last he'd disappeared entirely, the pool at Zeus' feet unable to find him after he'd fled the city.

"Lincoln, Francis the Bold was something of a living fantasy." Hestia began at last, her eyes shut as she gave up her knowledge, "He defied everything we Gods know about this world, and for that he became hated by most. After he fled the city none of the Gods could find him, even with the use of their Arcanum. His story has since become myth, little more than a ghost tale used to frighten rookie adventurers."

She sat back in her chair, gently rubbing her temple in frustration. For a moment she had to consider just what she'd gotten herself and Bell roped into by inducting this man. Yet she couldn't bring herself to even consider the idea of releasing him from her familia, no matter how much it unsettled her to learn of his pedigree. So she sat up once more and decided to simply continue, imparting all of what she knew to make Lincoln realize the gravity of this particular name.

"Listen, as far as I'm aware he supposedly died in the dungeon after being cornered by a group of level threes. At least, that's how it was told. All that remained of him was a gigantic flame-bladed two hand sword and a few bloodstained scraps of armor. They never found his body but they did find that. Since then not a soul has been able to remove that sword from where it's rested in the wall of floor fifteen's deepest reaches."

"In short, Lincoln," she continued, "the mere mention of his name is enough to put you and Lillian both in grave danger. I doubt there's many left that believe the whole story, but I'm certain the Gods he angered haven't forgotten him. I doubt they'd be happy to learn of you two."

Lincoln could hardly believe his ears, but what his Goddess was telling him somehow rang true in the reaches of his heart. He could feel the honesty and concern in her voice. It told him she truly cared enough to impart this warning, rather than simply stripping him of her blessing and tossing him and Lillian into the street. It surely would be a simpler solution, he was sure of that.

"Goddess, are you sure it's ok for me to be in your familia then?" Lincoln asked with earnest concern.

Hestia just smiled at him, her goofy grin from their earlier introduction flawlessly returning to her childish face.

"Of course I am. You're going to repay my kindness after all, right?"

"However you ask, Goddess." Lincoln says, standing to his feet.

To the surprise of all in the room, he walks along the edge of the table and prostrates himself on one knee before Hestia. Entirely unfamiliar with this expression of fealty, Hestia's face begins to turn red with nervousness and embarrassment.

"You saved my life, Goddess. In more ways than one." Lincoln states, carefully grabbing Hestia's right hand, "Because of your selflessness and for welcoming my sister and I into your home, I gladly swear my eternal loyalty to you."

To everyone's complete shock, Lincoln raises her hand to his face and plants a succinct kiss on the top of her palm. Had he not immediately let go of her hand, Hestia likely would've recoiled in surprise from this sudden gesture. Instead, she was utterly stayed as Lincoln raised his head to look her in the eyes.

"I will repay your kindness however you command, Goddess." He spoke with all the immovable determination of an oak tree.

Lillian was perhaps the most shocked of all, having never seen this side of her brother. Perhaps it was because he hid his own devotion to her, as serious as the oath he had just pledged, to keep her from fretting over it. All the same, she stared in bewilderment as her brother stood and returned to his seat.

"Um, I brought us all some tea…" Bell spoke up, assuaging the stunned silence that had fallen after Lincoln sat down.

"Th- Thank you, Bell…" Hestia muttered as she gingerly took one of the offered cups, her face the bright red of a freshly ripened apple.

Bell handed cups of tea to the siblings as well, seating himself with his own in hand. He stared intently into the amber solution as the uneasy silence once again began to culminate. Everyone was quite thankful when Lincoln broke it.

"So, Goddess," he began, flashing an imitation of her own goofy smile at Hestia, "How exactly can I repay your kindness?"

"Well, for one thing no more of that mess…" Hestia said as she sunk into her seat, hiding her still reddened face behind the cup.

Bell couldn't help but giggle lightly at his funny Goddess, the earlier air of seriousness now completely removed by Lincoln's little display. Lillian joined him, the tender sound of Bell's laugh being infectious to her senses.

"Anyways!" Hestia shouted lightly, face now red with annoyance, "You can seriously repay me by helping _my_ Bell stay alive in the dungeon!"

Bell nearly choked on his tea when she put the extra emphasis on 'my'.

"After this incident with the Minotaur, I'm not entirely sure he's going to keep his promise not to leave me alone." Hestia stated flatly, receiving an empathetic nod of understanding from Lillian.

"I'm sorry, Goddess…" Bell mumbled with his head held low.

"I'm sure he's going to keep going headlong after his goal and want to explore even deeper in the dungeon, so I'll ask you to protect him with this new life you have."

"Then that is what I will do, Goddess." Lincoln replied.

Hestia gave a satisfied nod to this, the blush now mostly dissipated. She held high hopes for this young man, assured that with his lineage he would become an adequate companion for Bell in due time within the Labyrinth's depths.

"Say, Lincoln." Bell chimed in, a smile now decorating his face, "You need some new armor after that scuffle in the dungeon, right?"

"With how I pretty much died from it, I wouldn't call that a scuffle exactly…" Lincoln replied, laughing nervously, "But yes, I do need to get some new armor now. Those war shadows ruined my chest plate…"

Hestia comically spat a mouthful of tea in astonishment upon hearing 'war shadow', to which everyone leapt from the table in surprise.

"You fought war shadows down there?!" she nearly yelled.

"Um, yeah. At least I think that's what they're called." Lincoln replied.

Hestia stared blankly at him, now sure he was even more reckless than Bell. To have gone into the dungeon without a blessing was foolhardy. To have gone in on your first day without a blessing was completely reckless and irresponsible. To top it off, fighting war shadows on day one without a blessing was just stupid and suicidal.

Bell however, being of a slightly different opinion over these actions than his Goddess, gave an admiring whistle with a twinkle in his eye. He was astonished this man before him could've done such a thing and survived, now sure he'd be a great help in the dungeon with him.

"Let's go to Babel Tower and look for some new armor tomorrow then, Lincoln!" Bell beamed, now excited to see his new party member in action, "I need some too after that fight with the Minotaur."

"You got a deal, partner." Lincoln replied with a grin.

The dungeoneering duo would get very little sleep that night in the tiny little room under the church. Both were just as anxious to get their new equipment and be on their way into the dungeon.


	8. Armor for the Body Medicine for the Mind

Chapter 7

Armor for the Body, Medicine for the Mind

β

The light pitter patter of small feet filled the air, a welcoming noise of bustle and busyness within a small kitchen. Unaccommodated with the luxuries and amenities that would normally be expected of such a place, which is to say the dwelling of a Goddess, this kitchen was instead a drab little nook. Hidden away beneath what remained of an old ruined church, it nonetheless fit the part for what it was. A small oven that seemed as like to burn the place down as cook. A small sink that, amazingly enough considering the surroundings, actually had a hot water tap along with cold. To the right of the oven even lay a small ice-box, keeping perishable foodstuffs cool enough that they wouldn't rot too soon.

All these things were powered with the amazing advances of magic-stone technology, something the Gods in Tenkai had found amazing enough to be worth visiting the lower world for. Within the shabby little oven was a lightly glowing stone about the size of a grown man's thumbnail, shimmering with a soft incandescence as it heated a tray within. This sort of accoutrement was more than enough for the job with which it was tasked, the oven being greeted with a satisfied grin for its hard work.

Just in front of the oven, hunched over and staring through the sooty window on the face of it, stood a petite young girl. By any measure too small and young to be considered a woman, yet with all the emotional scars and hardened life-lessons to impart a sense of matured dignity. Off-blonde hair was tied into a ponytail atop the back of her head, the odd loose strand hanging whimsically around her face. Said face, pallid and very softly featured, showed clearly signs of worry and illness. Though only fourteen years upon the world, this face had beheld many events that would lead others to deep depression and it showed.

Yet even still a smile was etched across the face, strongly showing the protest of a heart unwilling to succumb to the trappings of hardship. Emerald eyes shimmered in time with the faint glow within the oven, watching carefully the tray within.

A soft smell, akin to the sweetness that one might find wafting from a patisserie, permeated the entirety of the room. As the lingering scent of baked goods drifted throughout the tiny kitchen, leaking out into the adjacent living room, two pairs of eyes peaked around the corner of the half-wall that separated the two rooms. One the deep blue of sapphires, the other a soft chestnut brown. Both watched hungrily, and somewhat curiously, as the petite girl stared into the oven. All thoughts were pulled to the same question…

"Are they done yet, Miss Lillian?" called the soft voice of a prum, nearly bursting with excitement to taste the source of the scrumptious odor.

The emerald eyes tore themselves from the oven and turned to meet those questioning, nearly begging, chestnut eyes. The small smile that had been displayed coyly to the oven now bloomed fully into a wide grin, truly showcasing the warmth of the face upon which it sat.

"Oh, I was just getting ready to take them out!" Lillian responded, beaming her grin with fervor at the prum.

The sapphire eyes disappeared back behind the wall for only a moment before the full body came back around with them. A lovely young woman, or so she would appear, waltzed into the kitchen with a happy smirk across her own childish face. She eyed the oven with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, imparting a look most unbefitting of her Godly nature.

"I really hope you'll like them, Goddess…" Lillian cooed shyly.

"If they taste half as good as they smell, that's a guarantee!" the Goddess replied eagerly.

The little prum had now crept into the kitchen herself and all three girls stood in somewhat of an isosceles, exchanging grins. It was a heartwarming scene unfolding after not even a week of acquaintanceship, and it was very satisfying to the petite cook. Her heart was quite warmed to have those hungry eyes glaring at the oven, noses and stomachs titillated by the delicious aromatics coming from within. The very fruit of her efforts being the source of the good mood permeating the room was the icing on the cake for the cook.

"My mother taught me how to make these, so I hope they're up to snuff!" Lillian responded, the same grin still plastered across her face.

She turned back to face the oven, her ankle-length dress swishing lightly through the air with the pirouette, and leaned back over to have another look within. The cookies inside were now a lovely golden brown color, their delectable odor giving notice that they were quite ready. With a slight hum as she worked, Lillian opened up the oven and carefully removed the tray, placing it lightly atop the oven to cool. The Goddess and the prum exchanged eager glances, mouths watering with anticipation.

"Now, they need a few minutes to cool. I hope you can wait just a little longer." Lillian spoke as she removed her apron and hung it on a nearby hook.

A soft whistle filled the air just as she released her hold on the apron. The source was a small teakettle that had been sitting on one of two burners atop the oven, powered by the same small magic-stone. The water within, having been prepared for the purpose of tea, was now at a rolling boil.

Lillian once more covered her hands with mitts, the same she'd used to remove the cookie tray, and grabbed hold of the kettle. With a practiced finesse she filled three cups full, the teabags within floating lazily to the surface of the steaming water. Satisfied with the equal amounts within each, she placed the cups one by one onto a tray and began to carry the entire ensemble into the living room.

The eager Goddess and prum followed along behind her, itching to try the cooling cookies. Patience gradually waning within the two, neither noticed when the tray began to slip slowly from the petite cook's grasp.

Without warning there was a loud crash as all three cups hit the floor, breaking immediately upon impact. Hot water, the tea having just barely begun to suffuse within, splashed all across the floor. Pure luck, or perhaps a miracle of some small nature, kept the girls from being burned.

With quite the start the two girls stopped dead in their tracks as they were following behind the cook, thoughts immediately pulled away from the cookies still cooling just a few feet away. The Goddess watched for a moment as the girl shook violently, hands gripping the tray with force tantamount to a vice, before leaping forward to stop her fall.

"Lillian!" she cried, thrusting both arms forward to catch the listing form in front of her.

The prum, Lily, watched in stunned silence as the scene unfolded. Perhaps there was a curse or something around her. She contemplated this along with the fact that, only moments ago, they were all happily preparing themselves to enjoy a nice little snack together. It was quite the breakaway from how she'd expected things to go, seeing Lillian simply start shaking like she was possessed and drop everything.

The Goddess, Hestia, held the still quivering girl in her arms, now more than slightly worried about her. It was a full three minutes before the violent spasms released Lillian, the Goddess sighing with a slight relief.

"Are you ok?" she asked worriedly, nearly a whisper.

Lillian's emerald eyes, shimmering with tears now spilling across her cheeks, stared up at Hestia. This gaze continued for a few moments before she finally responded.

"I'll be alright…" she croaked hoarsely, "I just need my medicine. In all the commotion this last week, I may have forgotten a dose or two…"

The girl weakly lifted herself from Hestia's arms, casting a woeful glance at the shattered cups on the floor. This wasn't the first time she'd broken someone else's things with one of her bouts of convulsion.

No, this was indeed a nearly regular occurrence. One which had worried her poor parents sick over her. It was almost a daily event for her first three years, these convulsions leaving her nearly at death's doorstep as an infant. Yet they had eventually found a doctor, one whom had very recently moved to their little village before meeting them, that managed to concoct a reagent to stabilize her. This Godsend mixture of lily of the valley and tree of heaven, which consequently had led to her given nickname, managed to quell the convulsions down to perhaps only a few a month. Though when her medicine was removed from the equation, she was once again plagued quite often by the bouts of incoherence and epilepsy.

Much as she had said, during the recent events concerning her brother Lillian had neglected nearly three of her doses. Yet even still, this would have been quite the problem as she was running low regardless. All this she explained to the Goddess, her concerned glare never faltering from its fixture upon Lillian's visage.

"If this is the case, then we need to get you some more. That's why your brother brought you here after all, right?" Hestia queried, a sheepish grin returning unsteadily to her face. Perhaps out of nervousness or a want to alleviate the girl's worry, one could not tell.

"Yes, he came here for the money offered by the dungeon." Lillian replied in agreement.

Hestia stood and offered her hand to help the girl up, which Lillian gladly accepted. She braced the girl as she stood on wobbly feet, still shivering slightly from the aftershocks of her attack. Gradually, Hestia managed to stabilize her calming smile and offered a suggestion to Lillian.

"You know, I might have someone in mind to prepare that tonic for you." She began, considering the face of her fellow destitute Deity, "He runs a little apothecary not too terribly far from here. Since the boys are out shopping, why don't we go too?"

"Are you sure, Goddess?" Lillian replied, "After the fees from the guild clinic, we're pretty much broke."

"Oh, I am indeed. With Bell's recent successes in the dungeon I'm sure I can afford to treat you to this!"

Lillian eyed Hestia embarrassedly for a moment, truly not wanting to impose herself like this. Yet she could not deny her need of the medicine so she decided, with a markedly heavy sigh, to take the Goddess' offer.

"Well, thank you then. I'll take a dose and we can go see this guy." Lillian replied as a happy smile returned to her now weary face, "But first, why don't we eat those cookies? They should be cool by now."

θ

An odd pair walked briskly through a modestly accommodated hallway in Babel tower, slowly browsing along the windows of many small shops. Most were run by the famous Hephaestus Familia, though they were not the lavishly decorated shops of lower floors within the tower. These could barely be considered more than hovels, showcasing merchandise made by rookie smiths. Though the quality was of a standard that could not be easily ignored, these pieces nonetheless were withheld from the high-end retailers below.

Two sets of eyes danced their views lazily along the windows, taking in the sights of neatly displayed swords and spears. Shields hung perfectly in the grasp of imposing suits of simple plate steel. Modest sets of leather and chain stood beside bows and crossbows, displaying the preferred accoutrements for any beginning archer. Here and there they would occasionally catch a glimpse of an exotic looking sword or dagger with fantastically colored blades, magics burning deep within the weapons.

Finally the two stopped at one of the shops, ruby-red eyes lighting up as they remembered the place where an adored suit of armor was recently purchased. Both bodies to which the eyes belonged slowly waltzed inside, eagerly chatting about this and that.

They strolled leisurely around the interior of the little shop. Smaller than most of those passed on the way, and even more cluttered by far, it was a quaint little shop. Dark brown eyes lit up vividly with fond memories of a small smithy beyond the mountains east of Orario. Times of forging and times of laughter were recalled as the pair toddled down one aisle after another, stopping occasionally to peer upon a piece of armor or a weapon of some small interest.

"Why do you keep tossing my work all the way into a back corner, old man?!" came an angry call from the front of the store.

Both eyes turned to look at each other, silently considering what could be the source of the racket. The two shared a brief and hushed conversation, though the length of it hardly gave reason to call it such, before deciding to approach the front. The ruby eyes had a question for the store owner to boot, so it only made sense to slake their curiosity as well.

"I told you, there's no room on the floor!" the old clerk responded in a raspy tone.

"How's my stuff supposed to sell, then? If no one sees it no one will buy it!" responded the young man, equally exasperated.

His bright red hair swung loosely atop his head as he continued to argue with the store clerk. A young face, perhaps not quite to twenty, scowled with irritation at the losing dispute. He had his right arm wrapped tightly around a small crate, glimmering pieces of something or other barely poking through the top.

"Um, excuse me for interrupting…" began the ruby eyes, nervously approaching the clerk, "Could I butt in to ask a quick question?"

The owner turned to look at the otherwise ignorable boy, snow white hair atop a pale face. He was happy for the distraction and hastily turned his full attention to the prospective customer.

"Absolutely! What can I help you find?" he asked, contentedly discounting the fuming redhead in front of him.

"Well, I bought some armor here a few weeks ago, and…" the ruby eyes fell to look upon the ground, suddenly embarrassed as the redhead stared daggers into him.

"Oh, were you looking for another set?" the old man replied.

"Yes, I am. I mean, I was quite satisfied with the last set…" the boy responded.

"Well, do you know the smith's name, son?"

"Um, yes… It was Welf Krozzo." The ruby eyes responded, glimmering with a slight hope.

The old man's jaw dropped open and his lit cigarette fell onto the countertop beneath. He was quite shocked to hear the name, slowly turning his eyes to witness a grin crawl across the redhead's face. Before he could respond, the young man had hefted his crate atop one shoulder and walked straight up to the ruby eyes.

"So, you liked my armor, eh kid?" the redhead asked with a satisfied grin.

"Yes, very much!" Bell replied, embarrassment replaced with excitement.

Both exchanged grins as the old man managed to slowly close his jaw, returning the dropped cigarette to his mouth. He took a few quick, angry puffs before nearly spitting the smoke out as he spoke.

"If you two are gonna make a private sale, then get outta my shop." His words were slightly angered.

Bell turned to look at Lincoln, who gave a slight nod of his head to indicate indifference to the notion of departing. Bell felt a little ashamed of himself for getting excited, but decided it was best not to overstay their welcome in the store. Instead, he decided to ask something of the redhead.

"Excuse me, um… Mr. Krozzo." He began, trying to figure out how to ask, "Do you have enough armor there for two?"

Ψ

A beautiful young woman waltzed her way carelessly through one of the verandas on the outer rim of babel's fifth floor, pondering to herself how to spend her free time this day. A cute pair of dog-ears danced lazily on top of light brown hair the color of milky coffee, taking in the various conversations all around her. Her golden eyes danced from side to side, observing the various groups chatting away all along the veranda.

She hummed a light tune to herself as she watched the many people around her, still trying to decide whether to do some actual shopping or just meander around for a few hours before returning home. Her heart very nearly skipped a beat when those golden orbs landed on a vaguely familiar figure off in the distance. The figure wasn't terribly tall, though it stood a full head or two higher than the nearby companion. It had shoulder length hair the deep brown color of mahogany and olive skin like an Amazonian, though it was clearly male. Dark brown eyes, much like the hair, glimmered happily as a conversation was apparently being shared with the two near him.

She racked her mind, furiously trying to remember where she'd seen this man. His form and features were so familiar, yet the last week had been one excitement after another for the poor girl. She'd been trying to convince herself to venture into the fifth floor of the dungeon, even though she had no blessing, and had run into one mess after another during her forays. A small groups of killer ants one day, the remains of another party's pass parade. A trio of war shadows the next, apparently wanderers that got loose from floor six or seven.

All this constant stress had stretched her memories of the last few days thin, consequentially fattening her wallet in the process. Even without falna, thanks to her father's elven blood, she had quite a few simple magics to help preserve her in the Labyrinth. Even still, the drain on her mind from all the near misses and all the magic usage had left her memories somewhat warped.

At last, exasperated with trying to recall where she'd met him, the young half-breed decided to close the distance and try to listen in to his conversation. She perked her ears and walked inconspicuously, or at least as much so as she could manage in a bright teal robe, towards the trio. The ears danced around lightly as she tried to listen in, closing the distance ever more. At last a few words caught her ears, shocking her with the sudden realization of who this man was.

"… can't believe it… level twos… my armor…" she managed to pick up from the redhead, patting a small crate under his left arm.

"… just got my blessing… don't understand… feels a little weird…" she caught from the one in question, brown hair swaying as he laughed.

"… Minotaur… broke your armor… really liked it…" she overheard from the one with hair as white as freshly fallen snow.

Her tail became suddenly rigid, ears perking straight up in the air before folding back against her head in anger. Her golden eyes teared up slightly as she abandoned all pretense of staying hidden from the group. Now furious with the surety she'd been lied to, though the feeling was off base on many levels, she walked headlong towards them. Her pale face flushed red as she, completely unnoticed by the olive-skinned young man, raised her right hand into the air.

Ω

Lincoln and Bell followed the young redhead, Welf, through the halls of Babel Tower's fifth floor, where they had intended to purchase some armor for themselves. As they walked along Bell eagerly explained just how fantastic the armor was that he had lost in his fight with the Minotaur, Lincoln nodding his head in understanding every now and again. He told him just how light and agile it was, yet still sturdy and easily able to withstand some impressive blows.

The entire time Welf was swelling with pride inside, thanking his lucky stars he'd decided to bring his latest set out today. He was sure that if he played his cards right this could turn into a very lucrative deal for him. Finally, he could make a direct contract with someone that truly appreciated his work.

The trio arrived upon the sought after exit, following the redhead's lead through a large arch of rose-colored marble. It opened up onto a wide veranda, easily circling the entire girth of the mighty tower, with a fantastic view of the Labyrinthine City bellow. Lincoln had to stop for a moment just to take in the truly amazing sight stretched out before him.

All around was a sea of roofs and towers, extending all the way to the mighty outer wall of the great city. Multitudinous colors and makes of roof could be seen all around, from thatched straw on the outer reaches to brick and tile shingles closer to the tower. He mused for a moment at exactly how breathtaking this sight must be at night, momentarily recalling a passage from Francis' journal. He could only imagine how romantic the view from that bell tower must have been.

"Hey, Lincoln!" Bell called, breaking him from his thoughts, "You coming?!"

Lincoln snapped himself out of his thoughts and ran to catch up to the other two, noting the wide grin plastered across Bell's face. As he approached, the redhead sat himself down on a small wooden bench and plopped the crate down on his left. His silvery eyes glimmered with pride as he sat there.

"So, what exactly brought you two here looking for armor today?" he asked, eliciting confused looks from the two in front of him.

"Well, my armor was destroyed almost two weeks ago when I fought a Minotaur…" Bell replied sheepishly.

"I'm looking for a few pieces to replace what a war shadow ruined. It was guild issue beginner stuff…" Lincoln replied.

Welf's eyes looked the two over carefully, trying to assess exactly whom he might be making armaments for. The white haired kid seemed awfully green to him, but had a look of promise to him. The brown haired man looked uncertain and uneasy, yet still imposing somehow. He figured it would be best to ask for a little more information first, just to be sure.

"So, how long have you two been adventuring?" Welf queried.

"I'm brand new, only been in the dungeon once." Lincoln spoke up first.

"I've been going in for about a month now." Bell replied in turn.

Welf sat back and scratched his chin, now wondering if he'd made a good decision by crossing the old shopkeeper to try and strike a deal with these two. Yet, he did have to consider the claims of the white-hair that he'd defeated a Minotaur. That and the brown-hair's claim to have fought war shadows already as well. He sighed deeply and sat back up, glaring at the two.

"So how did you both manage to take on such strong monsters, eh?" he asked, more than slightly disbelieving of their claims.

"Well, I got cornered and had to fend off the shadows. Though, I couldn't tell you how…" Lincoln responded.

"Same here, more or less." Bell's response came as he flushed with slight embarrassment, "I had to prove something to myself and fought the Minotaur in the spur of the moment."

"Well, you're certainly both quite brave I guess. Or maybe just a little dumb." Welf spoke with a small chuckle.

He gave them both a grin and decided to take his chances, hoping that with these two he might get what he was looking for. Something obviously gave them the edge to overcome those trials, and he decided to try and get in on it. If all it cost him was a contract making arms and armor then he could easily swing that.

"So you both want me to make armor for you, huh?" he asked, eyes gleaming, "I'd be happy to do an exclusive contract for a small price."

Bell and Lincoln shared a quick glance before he continued.

"Take me into the dungeon with you and that's it. Well, throw in a small cut of the loot too, but no upfront charges. Sound good?"

"Sure!" Bell's reply was almost instant, eliciting a small laugh from the redhead.

"Ha! That's the spirit!" he roared, making the two jump slightly, "With that attitude I'm sure we could get to the middle floors before the year's end!"

"Actually…" Bell's response began timidly, "Me and Lincoln here, we're both level two. I haven't asked him yet but if he's up for it, and with a third sword beside us…"

Welf's eyes became as wide as dinner plates at these words, his ears shutting off everything else said after 'level two'. Once more he looked the two over, trying to assure himself he hadn't misheard something. They had both said they were fresh newbies and neither of them looked particularly experienced. Surely he must've misheard them.

"Um… Could you say that one more time, please? About your level…?" Welf managed to croak his question.

"Oh, uh… We're both level two, so I don't think the middle floors are out of the question for us per say." Bell replied once more, now more than a little embarrassed.

Bell and Lincoln both could feel Welf's glare on them, along with a myriad of other glances and whispers all around. Some few passersby had overheard just enough to glean shock from Bell's announcement of their levels. Whispers of disbelief and envied looks were plenty now, making both slightly uncomfortable.

"I can't believe it…" Welf spoke, voice now quite full of excitement, "A couple of level twos came here looking for armor. My armor…"

"I'm still not one hundred percent on this level two business." Lincoln began, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, "I mean, I just got my blessing and I don't understand why it's so significant. It feels a little weird…"

"Mr. Welf, your armor was amazing." Bell spoke up, "It saved me when I fought the Minotaur. Even though the blows broke your armor, it took most of the damage and kept me going. I really liked it and came back hoping to get more."

"So you guys want to make this contract then?" Welf asked once more, eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

"I'm all for it." Lincoln spoke up first, "If your stuff's as good as Bell says, then I could definitely use some. I need to stay alive for someone important after all."

Welf stood and was going to reach out to offer his hand for a shake when a loud clap interrupted him. It was quite startling and loud, eliciting a jump of surprise from Bell. Lincoln just stood there, a red handprint now decorating the left side of his face. His hair, knocked into the air with the force of the impact, slowly settled back along his face and covered the mark.

All eyes turned to behold a truly gorgeous woman, pointed dog ears atop light brown hair. Golden eyes shimmered angrily, tiny tears welled up just within the corners. A beautifully pale face was lit up slightly red with some unknown fury. She clearly eyed Lincoln with the full force of the hidden rage.

"You lied!" she finally yelled.

"Um, excuse me?" was Lincoln's response, not immediately recalling the woman in front of him.

β

"Miss Lillian…" Lily began.

"Please, just Lillian is fine." She responded.

"Oh, um…" the prum stuttered shyly, "Well, Lillian, what was that earlier? When you were shaking so bad, Lily has never seen anything like that before…"

Lillian lifted her gaze to the sky, pondering exactly how to explain herself to the girl beside her. The three were walking along a busy street full of people at midday. Hustle and bustle all around, the three girls were headed to meet a certain someone. As they walked along Lillian racked her mind to figure out how to explain her ailment, which she herself did not fully understand, to the questioning prum.

"Well, it's something I've had all my life." She began, still gazing at the clear sky, "I'm not sure what it's called, but since I was born I have these… attacks. It's very scary and it hurts very bad…"

She trailed off, lowering her gaze back to the Goddess in front of her. Following just a few steps behind, being led to an acquaintance of hers, Lillian pondered further how to give a proper explanation.

"It's some kind of illness in my brain is what the doctor always said." She continued, "Something's not right in my head and it makes me have those convulsions. That's why he made me this medicine, to stop them as much as possible and help my brain work right."

"Oh… I think I see." The prum replied, her eyes glimmering with curiosity.

"Miss Supporter, don't you know it's rude to ask people about their problems like that?" chirped Hestia.

"Lily has a name, Goddess!" the prum cried in annoyed protest.

The Goddess turned her head around, still walking straight ahead, and flashed a cheeky grin at the prum. To this Lily became just slightly enraged and ran after Hestia, not entirely sure what she'd do if she caught her. The Goddess picked up her pace slightly and turned, running the prum in a small circle around Lillian. She could not help but giggle lightly at the childish display, wondering exactly how often the Goddess running around her actually acted like the Deity she was.

After a few laps, both came to a stop. The Goddess turned and once more began her pace forward, the two girls following behind.

"Does she tease you often, Lily?" Lillian asked, another giggle escaping her lips.

"Mr. Bell's Goddess is always teasing Lily." The prum replied, presenting a cheeky grin of her own, "But Lily understands. She's just jealous that Lily gets to spend _so much time_ with Mr. Bell in the Dungeon!"

Once more the Goddess stopped in her tracks, turning to look at the impishly smiling prum. This time it was Hestia who chased the prum for a few laps around Lillian, who was now laughing earnestly at the silly display before her. This odd behavior continued most of the way to the shop, both the prum and Goddess teasing and jeering one another playfully.

By the time they made it to the shop, all three were quite out of breath. Hestia and Lily were gasping slightly from all the running. Lillian was short of breath from the constant laughing, which had consequently left her cheeks quite sore. Though all the same she was quite happy to be around such jubilant spirits.

The storefront displayed before them was quite humble by any measure. A small and slightly shabby building that looked much older than it truly was, hidden away in an alley off the main street. Modestly adorned and made of simple wood and plaster, with a faded sign hanging above it reading 'Miach Familia', the place was truly nothing inspiring. Yet as Lillian gazed at it she could feel a warmth from within, much like she felt from Hestia whenever Bell was around. A familial sort of bond seemed to exude from the very façade of the building.

Hestia waltzed right up to the front door, opening it proudly and motioning for the others to follow her in. This they did, Lillian noting the various bottles and flasks sitting on the many shelves all along the walls. A myriad of colored liquids filled the vessels, betraying the level of skill that was surely possessed by their creator. She looked from bottle to flask to bottle, amazed at the many labels and shapes as she passed by each, before stopping just behind Hestia.

The Goddess had come to a halt at a counter sitting in the very back of the shop, separating the storefront from a living area. Behind the counter stood a very bored looking chienthrope, her dog-ears laying lazily atop sandy brown hair as she peered into some sort of book. Without so much as raising her gaze, the woman addressed the Goddess in front of her.

"Hello, Goddess Hestia." She spoke monotonously, never tearing her gaze from her book, "Have you come to pester my God into buying you more alcohol?"

The diminutive Goddess quite immediately lit up with embarrassment and a hint of anger, loathe to recall her embarrassing display before her fellow God. With a few deep breaths she calmed herself, placing both palms briskly on the countertop with a thud. The startled chienthrope broke her gaze from the book with a slight jump, looking Hestia in the eye.

"And a fine hello to you too, Naaza." Hestia spoke as politely as she could, her left eyebrow twitching slightly, "Is Miach in? I would like to place a special order."

Ω

Lincoln stared bewildered at the woman before him, dog-ears folded angrily atop her head, as he lifted his hand to his cheek. He was sure he'd seen her somewhere, though he had no clue whatsoever why she would slap him like a spurned lover. He winced slightly upon touching the cheek, still red with the shape of the woman's small hand. Her eyes, a gorgeous golden color like freshly harvested wheat, glimmered at him in the sunlight pouring throughout the veranda.

Bell and Welf both stared in silence, wondering the same thing as Lincoln. Both pairs of questioning eyes wanted to know what had so provoked this woman to practically attack the man before them.

"You lied!" she repeated, slightly louder than before.

Lincoln was so terribly confused by this he wasn't sure which way was up at that very moment. For all he knew he could very well have been standing on the ceiling. He opened his mouth to speak as he lowered his hand back to his side.

"Ma'am, I'm really not sure what I did to upset you, but-"

He was interrupted by another abrupt pain, this time from his right cheek, as her left hand made a flash from her side into the air. The clap was so loud, Welf winced slightly as Bell visibly jumped. Even passersby began to take notice of the odd scene. Lincoln momentarily pondered to himself, as his entire head was turned with the force of the impact, what God or Goddess he might've angered to be confronted by this possible lunatic.

"You said you didn't have a blessing, you liar!" she yelled, far more angry than she should've been, "But I heard you just now! I heard you say you're level two! That's impossible if you _just_ got a blessing!"

Lincoln turned his face, now thoroughly aching from the consecutive slaps, to look upon the angered woman. He wanted to get angry himself, but for some reason couldn't bring himself to. He'd just managed to recall where he'd seen the all too familiar face. It was the very same woman he'd run into just over a week earlier, knocking her to the ground with his inattentiveness. He recalled that she seemed almost desperate when she'd questioned him about whether or not he had a Familia.

Instead of returning her anger he tried to display a disarming smile, hoping to perhaps assuage her temper even if just a little. The bright golden eyes only glared at him as he began to speak.

"Please calm down, Ma'am." He said, bracing himself just in case, "I didn't lie to you. I really did just join a Familia. I wasn't blessed when I ran into you that day…"

"Then how are you level two?!" she responded angrily, her eyes still ablaze.

"I really don't know, Miss. It just… happened. When I got my blessing, it was just there."

At this her shoulders sunk, the color draining entirely from her face. Those golden orbs released their fiery fury and instead began to tear up slightly more. To this the woman closed her eyes quickly and turned her face away, wiping furiously at the tears she absolutely wouldn't allow to spill. Lincoln's curiosity only deepened, now starting to worry a little over the frantic woman.

"You damned blessed adventurers are all bullshit…" she spat angrily, still looking away.

He truly couldn't make heads or tails of her attitude or from whence it stemmed. This woman seemed like she might be broken somehow to Lincoln, what with the way she was talking and acting. He stepped back, wanting to give her some room. There was really no telling how she was going to react and he was more than a little frightened.

"Um, are you ok?" he asked carefully.

The woman turned her gaze back to him, Golden eyes staring daggers into his soul. Or so it felt as she glared at him.

"Just forget it. Go enjoy your damn blessing and your party." She muttered angrily.

With that the gorgeous half-breed turned from the three and stomped angrily away. Lincoln was quite unsettled yet almost wanted to chase after her, feeling more than a little guilty for some reason he could not pinpoint. Instead, erring on the side of intelligence for once in a long while, he stood there and watched the woman in the teal robe disappear into the tower. As the tail end of the robe left his sight under the rose-marble entrance, Lincoln's attention was called away by a sudden outburst from Welf.

"Holy shit, what was her problem?" he sighed heavily, thanking the Gods he wasn't the recipient of the just witnessed encounter.

"I'm really not sure." Lincoln responded, "But didn't she seem kind of… sad, almost?"

"Well, doesn't matter now." Welf spoke matter-of-factly, "She's gone and we still have a deal to officiate, right?"

Lincoln sighed and nodded his head in agreement, still staring at the rose-marble archway. He gazed for a few moments longer before deciding to give his full attention back to his companions. With that he walked to a nearby table, presently unoccupied, and took hold of two chairs. He walked them over to Welf and sat them in front of the bench, plopping himself down on one. He motioned for Bell to have a seat before turning to look Welf in the eye.

"If Bell doesn't mind I'll broker our little deal here." He said flatly, looking to Bell for approval.

"Yeah, I don't mind. You look like you'd know better than me anyways." Bell chuckled in response.

"Alright then, Welf wasn't it?"

"Yup! Welf Krozzo, nice to meet ya." The redhead replied with a wide grin.

"I'm Lincoln Ansley, and this is Bell Cranel." He began, pointing to Bell, "We'd be more than happy with the terms you've given, just as long as you would specify on the split of loot you want."

Welf leaned back on the bench, left arm still over top of his crate, and scratched his chin for a moment. After a brief contemplation he sat up and delivered his request.

"I'd like a fifteen percent cut of whatever we haul out." He spoke, casting his gaze between the two, "So long as you're sure we could go down to around floor thirteen or fifteen, I'll be happy with that."

Lincoln huffed as he considered his inexperience for a moment. It was foolhardy to immediately agree to such arrangements when his only trip into the dungeon thus far had resulted in, what essentially amounted to, his death. Considering that very fact he decided to add one more little tidbit to their deal.

"I can agree to that if you can give me two weeks to get used to the dungeon." He spoke his terms flatly, "I am brand new at this after all and I'd like to get my feet wet before being stupid again."

With that last statement, Lincoln flashed a slight smile. Welf couldn't help himself but to chuckle at the oddly disarming grin, along with the thoroughly honest admission to inexperience offered by Lincoln.

"Well I'd be happy to show you a little of what I know, Lincoln." Welf chimed in, wiping a tear from his eye.

"What do you think of this, Bell?" Lincoln asked as he turned his gaze to the boy, not wanting to overstep himself.

"I think that's a good idea." Bell spoke, nodding his head in an attempt to seem mature, "Though I'd like to ask Welf to provide us the armor first, if that's okay."

"Well then, sounds like we have ourselves an arrangement!" Welf roared, standing and offering his hand to shake and seal the deal.

The three exchanged handshakes and satisfied grins, happy with their freshly begun pact. The next few hours were spent on the veranda, exchanging laughter and light conversation. This led into the ordering and imbibing of a few drinks and eventually a raucous tirade by the elder two. Finally, as the sun began its decent behind the horizon, the three said their goodbyes and exchanged a few parting words before heading home for the evening.

"We'll meet at the dungeon tomorrow, fellas." Welf spoke jubilantly, "I'll have the armor you've both requested with me."

"I look forward to it, Welf." Lincoln responded politely.

"Me too!" Bell chimed in, giving away his age with his eager tone.

β

Miach's steel-blue eyes stared across a small table, adorned with five plain cups full of a violet colored tea, at his fellow Deity. He wore his usual caring smirk across his face as he listened to the little Goddess detail her latest dilemma to him. Carefully considering every word, he nodded his head here and there to indicate understanding. Finally, as Hestia laid out the last few details, his smirk bloomed into a full smile. With eyes half shut, the blue haired God leaned forward and spoke.

"It sounds like you've had it pretty rough, Miss Lillian." His soothing voice carried across the room.

"I'm grateful for the trials I've had, God Miach." The young girl replied, "They've given me all the more reason to appreciate what I have."

"You're so mature, Lil!" Hestia cried out, seemingly determined not to act as her standing demanded this day, before wrapping Lillian in a hug.

"So, this medicine you need…" Miach began, "What exactly was it made of?"

"The doctor from my village told me it was lily of the valley and tree of heaven, though he never said how it was mixed." Lillian replied, trying to politely wriggle free of the tiny Goddess' embrace.

Miach chuckled lightly at the display Hestia was putting on, his navy-blue hair bouncing along with the laughter. When Hestia finally released her grip and straightened up, Miach stood and walked over to a small bookshelf. He leaned over to look for one in particular he was sure he would need for this.

Steel-blue eyes scanned from book to book, his gaze falling across every shelf of the shabby little bookcase. Its tired wooden shelves were lined from end to end, packed nearly fit to bursting, with all sorts of herbalist's manuals and treatises. Lillian watched raptly, her gaze drawn more to the various dusty tomes than the divine being.

At last Miach let out a relieved huff and selected a particularly neglected and dust covered volume, pulling it free of the shelf as carefully as he could. Slowly wiping off the dust so as not to spread it through the air, the God gradually returned to the sofa he'd been sharing with the sole member of his own Familia. He sat down slowly, with all the refinement one might expect of a Deity, and opened the book.

He thumbed through its yellowed pages with care, being sure not to tear the fragile paper. He scanned through the heavily leaden volume, its pages so thoroughly covered with notes and hastily scrawled details as to appear black. The God's eyes finally settled on a particular passage, widening as he intently read the methods detailed within.

"It would seem your doctor may have been keeping something from you, young Miss." He muttered.

"What do you mean?" Lillian's reply was apprehensive, her nerves a little alarmed by the statement.

"Well, I thought your medicine's ingredients sounded like an odd pair…" Miach began, furrowing his brow as he continued examining the text, "Lily of the valley and tree of heaven aren't exactly something you'd normally employ together for any sort of normal medicine. As a matter of fact, it's more along the lines of a poison…"

All within the room, the stoic Naaza included, shared a simultaneous gasp of shock. Had Miach not been engrossed so thoroughly in his book, he might've found their reaction just a tad amusing since it almost seemed choreographed. Yet no laughter escaped the God's lips this time as he continued to read about the strange decoction.

"What's more, it's truly only used for one purpose." Miach continued, at last pulling his eyes from the passage, "You see there've been a few cases in this last millennium, since we Gods came to live among you, that a Divine has fallen for one of the Children."

Hestia unconsciously stiffened slightly at this statement, her face turning a vaguely reddish hue. With a few discreet glances to either side of her she affirmed that no one had noticed her reaction and tried to calm herself, listening as Miach's explicating continued.

"When a Deity lays with a mortal, much the same as if a mortal laid with another, a child can be conceived." Miach went on, closing his tome and gently setting it on the table, "Some Gods consider it an abomination, some an intrigue, and still others a precious gift, much as you mortals consider your children such. Yet these half-Gods are not natural, per say. They are fundamentally different from both mortals and Gods in that they have a mortal body and a divine soul."

He paused for a moment, picking up his tea and taking a few slow sips as he searched his mind for the words he wanted to use. His thoughts had not been brought to this subject in quite some time and he struggled to formulate a decent explanation. Setting his cup back on the table, Miach closed his eyes fully and continued.

"When a magic weapon is created it is common knowledge that it only has a finite number of uses before it will die and shatter." Miach's explanation, seemingly off subject, was met with confused stares, "This is not, however, the case. Magic weapons are mortal implements with a spark of the divine within them, hence the magic. When they are used the materials are stressed until they can no longer conduct the magic, which in turn destroys the weapon."

"Much in this manner, when a mortal body is filled with a divine soul it can only last for a short while before the overwhelming power burns it out. To further complicate this matter, a half-breed of this sort cannot bind up its own divinity as we Gods can."

This time, as Miach opened his eyes, he noticed Hestia's nervous squirming on the sofa across the table. He knew very well the source of her present anxiety and decided to avert his gaze, hoping not to draw the other's attention to her.

"For this reason, when the first few half-Gods died of this issue, a reagent was developed at the behest of a particular God." Miach began once more, "This mixture, the very same I believe you've been taking young Miss, was decocted of the very herbs you mentioned. It's a very potent thing designed to essentially poison a half-God and bind up their divinity."

Lillian's eyes were quite wide with shock as she took in the monologue before her, her mind desperately trying to make sense of it.

"What exactly are you saying?" she nearly whispered.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure." Miach relented, now rubbing his forehead with slight frustration, "A half-God only requires a single year's worth of this ilk to rid them of their overflow of power and stabilize them. That being said, since you've been having to take this from birth I'm really not sure what it means."

At this Lillian very nearly sighed in relief. Yet it still begged the question as to why she was being given something tantamount to poison for a God, half-bred or otherwise. She couldn't shake this thought from her head as she nervously picked up her cup of tea, bringing it to her lips to have a sip.

The slightly bittersweet taste brought a much needed sense of relaxation to her, the girl's shoulders easing their rigid stance as she took in the complicated flavor. She took another few sips, carefully savoring the essences of the tea, before returning the cup to the table. Lillian raised her gaze to the God sitting across from her and decided to voice a final question.

"Should I stop taking this stuff, God Miach?" she queried politely.

"Oh, by all means no." he responded hastily, "As a mortal, having had even one sip of it means you'll have to keep taking it until you pass on. To stop taking it now, that is to stop entirely, would kill you."

Lillian lowered her gaze to stare upon her tea cup, sitting now half full on the table in front of her. Her mind started to wander and consider what exactly all this meant. She was sure her parents had no idea about any of this. She was also fairly certain, or perhaps more accurately hopeful, that the doctor in her village had not known what the medicine was meant for. Yet this revelation still sat heavily on her shoulders, begging her to question much about herself.

"In any case, I'd be happy to make this for you young Miss." Miach spoke, his voice once more soothing and kind, "And since the ingredients are so readily available here, I assure you it will be much cheaper."

Lillian's eyes were raised once more to meet Miach's own, a look of earnest concern shining in the steel-blue orbs. Lillian felt a renewed sense of blessing as she considered how lucky she was to have a brother so willing to risk himself for her sake. Had he not been willing to lay his life on the line for her, they might never have even considered coming here. For that matter she would have never been able to meet these people around her now, so willing to help as they were.

Lillian could not help but smile as a few sparkling tears escaped her emerald eyes, dropping onto her dress. All eyes in the room turned to the girl, now quietly sobbing as her heart was flooded with gratitude. She gave a true smile, stretched from ear to ear and filled with joy, as she turned to hug the Goddess sitting beside her.

"Wah?!" Hestia cried in surprise, "What's wrong, Lillian?"

"Nothing, Goddess…" the girl murmured, barely audible as her face was buried in Hestia's chest.

"You have a good eye for the Children, Hestia." Miach observed fondly, his divine gaze peering upon the girl's joyful soul.

"Yeah, I guess so…" Hestia cooed in response, lightly stroking the back of the crying girl's head.

Θ

When Bell and Lincoln walked into the tiny room under the church, they were greeted with a most unexpected sight. Unexpected in the sense that when you leave three young girls alone, girls that barely know each other mind you, one would expect them to be at each other's throats in no time. Astonishingly this was not the case, as they discovered upon returning. No, the sight that greeted them when they entered the church was a very heartwarming display of fellowship.

Spread around the small table in the living room, laughing and smiling with each other, were Hestia, Liliruka and Lillian. All were quite clearly getting along and enjoying themselves, apparently even sharing some tea and cookies. Bell very nearly teared up to see his Goddess so happy, Lincoln having to choke back his own as well at the sight of his sister's elated face. Indeed, both men were quite surprised and relieved to come home to such a sight.

"Goddess, we're home!" Bell called out, loathe to interrupt the heartwarming scene.

"Bell!" Hestia cried, leaping to her feet.

Yet as she attempted to embrace him, she was taken slightly aback by a sudden blur passing in front of her.

"Brother, you're home!" Lillian cried, dashing like lightning and tackling Lincoln with a hug.

Hestia followed suit after recovering herself, slamming into Bell with her own embrace. Liliruka, who under other circumstances might have been somewhat jealous, was still riding the high of the good mood she had been sharing with the other two. Instead of jealousy, she watched Bell and Hestia through eyes filled with delight that her friends could be so happy. She thanked the white haired boy and tiny Goddess in her heart for their forgiveness and for allowing her to become a part of this. Without realizing it, the prum cracked a smile across her elfin face.

The happy group gathered around the small table, exchanging elated pleasantries and lively conversation, as Lillian disappeared into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later, after a slightly raucous commotion in the kitchen, carrying with her an entire dinner assortment. Everyone looked on with watering mouths and growling stomachs as she laid the hotchpotch between them all, placing a bowl in front of each of them. Ladle in hand, Lillian scooped out the stew into each bowl and filled them full. The room was filled with grateful cries of 'thank you!' and 'looks delicious!' as everyone began to dig in.

The church was filled with happy faces and exultant fellowship that night. It was the first time in a very long time that the ruined little house of worship was so blessed. Sadly, it was also to be one of the last.


	9. Duties to Fulfill

Chapter 8

Duties to Fulfill

Λ

A glorious countenance shines eerily as it gazes deeply into a pool at the foot of a gargantuan stone throne. The brilliant light emanating from under the hood of its shabby robe shimmers in time with the glistening mere of fate beneath. Now locked onto a single path, showing the events yet to come to the divine visage, the shifting forms within the pool are not nearly so wild as they had been. Yet even still the colors change and contort, forms birthing and dying within the shimmering waters.

The being sits on its throne, as it ever has since time immemorial. A colossal monolith carved into the center of this void-like space. Almost as if a capricious afterthought, the throne seems made of simple granite that matches well the realm devoid of detail within which it sits. Its form is colorless, given breath and reason only by the will of the splendor rested upon it. It stretches far into what passes for the sky in this place, reaching into the infinite maw stretched out above.

Upon the bottom of this monolith, sitting with its face rested upon both hands, the being remains ever vigilant over its chosen source of intrigue. Arguably omnipotent, omniscient and utterly divine, still it merely sits and watches. Almost eagerly it stares as its face bares brilliant countenance upon the mere of fate shimmering below.

Barely visible, almost as if formed of a mere consideration for proper form, the being's face gradually lost just the slightest bit of its inherent brilliance. Though none could have guessed for whom this show was put on, most likely for the being's own narcissistic whims, a smile gradually crept onto the perfect face as it gazed deeply into the pool of fate.

If one were to be willing to risk madness and blindness eternal, loss of sight and mind even unto their soul, the grinning visage could have been seen to be mouthing words at this very moment. Speaking without breath so as not to be heard by any, though none existed there to hear, it muttered some small words of encouragement as it watched.

Ω

Lincoln gritted his teeth hard, nearly ready to crack under the ferocity of his disappointment in himself. His right hand gripped a short sword, an inheritance of sorts left by his great-grandfather, with great fervor. Veins popped up visibly along the stressing arm, now pushed to its utter limits with the furious grip upon the short blade. Knuckles turned white as pain began to gradually course through his wrist, alerting the young man that he was quickly reaching his physical limit.

A bead of sweat lazily dripped from the crown of his head, passing over his brow and resting itself painfully into his wide-open right eye. Without so much as a twitch of pain, Lincoln only continued his stare into the hateful eyes before him. Glowing red and full of murderous intent, the kobold glared with equivalent fervor at the man before it.

Both were battered and beaten, now a few minutes into their deathly melee. Neither had given much ground and neither showed any real signs of being willing to give in. The bloody fur of the kobold, formerly a soft blue color, now sat matted to bruised and lacerated skin. The claws upon its right hand were now mostly shattered, the left hand being entirely devoid of fingers at this point. It opened and closed its ragged mouth as it took haggard breaths, now missing nearly all of its sharp teeth due to a bite launched earlier upon the young man's armor.

Lincoln conversely showed signs of duress, his muscles aching as he exerted a manic grip upon his sword. His arms and torso were covered with bruises and cuts, some deeper than others, and ached with a fury to attest to the vigor of his training. His face was misleadingly calm despite the many signals of pain racing through the mind behind the olive-skinned visage. Mahogany eyes stared furiously upon the battered kobold before him, their cold gaze never for a moment betraying the murderous rage behind them.

"Lincoln!" called out a young, redheaded man some four meters to his rear, "You got this sucker on the ropes! Remember the steps I showed you and finish him!"

"Yeah, come on bro!" this time the call came from a younger boy with hair the color of snow, "This makes fifteen! You got it in you, now finish him!"

Lincoln's gaze narrowed as his mahogany eyes became mere slits upon his face. He tucked himself downward into a properly grounded stance, extending his blade forward and adjusting his grip ever so slightly. He slid his right foot forward and shifted the predominate portion of his weight back, resting most of his body upon his left foot. With the tip of his sword tilted slightly to the left, and his center of gravity properly shifted into place, Lincoln readied himself to once more attempt the maneuver the young redhead had shown him.

Almost as if sensing the burgeoning attack, the kobold grew suddenly impatient. Its eyes widened frantically, the claws left somewhat intact on its right hand opening and closing as it readied itself to launch into action. Leaning downward into a reckless stance, the creature shot forward with all the strength it had left to muster in its battered form.

Lincoln's gaze did not falter however as he watched the monster charging toward him. He calmly observed its frantic steps, colored properly by the fear of imminent death, as it closed in upon him. His eyes carefully traced the arch cut across the air by the critter's remaining claws, watching for the proper moment to strike. He aligned himself readily into his stance, preparing to give his all into one last good hit. Yet this battle would not be so simply won.

"Lincoln!" shouted the whitehaired boy.

Alas he couldn't hear the voice ringing with alarm through the small room within floor four. Lincoln was already too far engaged within his own mind, his concentration poured entirely into the attack he had readied. He launched himself forward to meet the beast's charge, twisting his back to the right to come up under the swinging claws. Yet as he concentrated on the execution of the maneuver, he missed the knee being thrust upward as the claws sailed harmlessly over his head.

With a sickening crack and a blooming pain digging into his gut, Lincoln's sword collided into the creature's side. Yet the sudden impact had faltered his momentum and placement just enough that he did little more than give the monster a grazing scratch. This gave way to only the smallest trickle of blood as the kobold prepared another swipe of its jagged claws, this time aiming for the exposed nape of Lincoln's neck.

With hardly even the time to blink, much less to register what he was seeing, a brilliant flash of dark violet light cut a neat arch through the air above Lincoln. As his crumpled form came to rest upon the ground, Lincoln beheld only the dust of the monster in the air where it had been standing merely a heartbeat earlier. In one fell swoop, one well executed strike, the younger boy had closed in and utterly obliterated the creature. So Lincoln sat there, mouth agape and mind dumbfounded that he had fallen victim so easily to the feign of such a dumb beast. He sat there and watched the boy for a few moments, wondering exactly how long the goal of his training would continue to elude him.

"Are you okay, Bro?" the whitehaired boy asked, ruby-red eyes glimmering with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Lincoln nearly spat in response, earning himself a wince from the boy, "Thanks for the save there, Bell."

With aches resounding all throughout his body Lincoln pulled himself to his feet. He brushed the dust off of himself, which all said and done was a worthless gesture considering the filth and grime all over him.

"Well, you look like you've gotten a hang of the stance at least." This time the redhead was addressing the battered man, "But I still can't wrap my head around how you could've taken on war shadows, man…"

Lincoln shot a fiery glance at the redhead, standing there with an imposing sword strapped across his back. His silver-ish eyes gazed off into the distance, watching a small prum busily go about collecting the little stones left scattered all over the floor. As he watched, the younger man ran a hand covered by a simple protector through his vivid red locks. His mind was full of questions that were very nearly devoid of answers.

"I really couldn't tell ya, Welf." Lincoln finally replied with a sigh, "I don't remember the fight at all to be honest. It's all fuzzy, like a dream…"

"Somehow that actually makes sense…" Welf replied, still stroking his fiery locks.

Lincoln walked over to Bell, who also stood stationary as he watched the prum go about her duties. Yet the ruby eyes held something of a somber look within them as they gazed at the small figure, carrying a bag upon her back that was far too large by any measure. So Lincoln closed the distance unnoticed and stood beside the boy, turning his own gaze to watch the little prum.

"You shouldn't look so worried, kid." Lincoln spoke lightheartedly.

"Oh, do I look worried?" Bell asked, turning his face to show a somewhat weak smile.

"Yeah, but like I said, you shouldn't. She's got one helluva guardian watching over her."

With that, Lincoln slapped the top of the boy's back much in the manner soldiers would do each other. The jarring impact, not hard enough to hurt by any means, certainly seemed to snap the boy out of his haze. His gaze sharpened and his smile regained some life to it. The two shared a brief chuckle before turning to watch the prum again.

"Hey Lily!" Bell called, "Can we help you?"

The prum, looking more like a very young little girl under her giant backpack, looked up from the stone she was hunched over. From under her long chestnut bangs she flashed a wide grin toward the group, opening her tiny mouth to respond.

"Lily's okay, Mister Bell!" she called in reply, turning back to her task.

Lincoln and Bell continued to stand and watch as she went about gathering the last few stones. Little glimmering shards left over from the thirty or so monsters the group had managed to coax to this room. Aided by monster lures, which were tiny and stinky little clumps of herb-treated meat, the party had brought the large group in order to maximize the efforts to train Lincoln, the oldest and surprisingly least combat experienced of the quartet.

The entire last week had been spent in this manner as the group loitered between floors four and seven, trying their best to find monsters suitable for the young man to practice and hone his skills upon. Thus far their efforts were largely ineffective, as it seemed poor Lincoln couldn't quite grasp the very basics of combat. Even with repeated steps and efforts the monsters always seemed to be just one step ahead of him, leaving both Lincoln's body and pride battered and belittled at the end of every outing.

This is not to say that he hadn't managed to slay any monsters himself, however. Lincoln was after all a level two, imparting quite the large degree of vitality and tenacity to him by merit of level alone. Yet the irritating part was that he couldn't seem to become efficient in the basics, which was what he'd intended to achieve through this training. Before adventuring into the middle floors, that is to say the deepest reaches his great-grandfather had achieved, he wanted to be sure of himself and his capabilities.

"You'll get this Lincoln, don't worry." Welf spoke, having approached the two while Lincoln was lost in thought.

"Yes, Lily believes Mister Lincoln will gain his footing soon!" sang the little prum, who had also approached whilst Lincoln's mind was wandering, "After all, he's working very very hard at it!"

"I'll figure this out." Lincoln replied, more to himself than the others, "I have to learn this properly if I'm going to be of any use to this party."

"Well, you're certainly making some progress at least." Welf said, slapping Lincoln's back as he had Bell's earlier, "I'm sure we can count on a good meal tonight after all those monsters we took down."

With that Lincoln leaned down and picked up his blade, thrusting it into the sheath he'd bought only a few days earlier with a sharp clink. He turned his gaze to the barely lit hallway of the Labyrinth behind them, heart burning with the desire to forge himself into a proper adventurer. After all, there was a certain someone that needed him to be his all for her. Someone that no matter what he needed to come back alive for.

And as everyone knows, a foolhardy rookie only ends up coming home in a coffin if at all...

β

Lillian's emerald eyes glimmered eagerly as she gazed upon a small box between her tiny hands, packed full of various morsels and treats. A slice of freshly baked bread, a few neatly formed balls of rice, some cheese sliced into cute little figures and shapes alongside a few hunks of meat rest neatly packed within. She stared at the box as she considered whether any more could be fit within, or perhaps if she had forgotten to consider any particular piece of a proper meal. At last though, she sighed contentedly as she placed a small lid upon the box and wrapped the entire assembly neatly within a cloth.

"Alright, I'm heading out Lil." Called a soft, sweet voice from the living room, "I'll be back late today, the shop's running me through a double shift."

Lillian stiffened with a start at the words, whirling around deftly on the ball of her right foot to chase after the melodic tone. A few soft pitter-patters and she'd caught up to the voluptuous figure strolling up the stairs to leave the small room beneath the church. With a soft voice colored by fatigue, the girl called out to the figure in the stairwell with two jet-black ponytails sitting on either side of its head.

"Goddess!" she called sweetly, offering the box held in her small hands, "I made you a lunch, Goddess!"

The figure turned around suddenly, two sapphire-blue eyes peering down the stairwell to the bowing figure of young Lillian. A small grin carved its way across a very childlike face as the Goddess looked upon her. She turned herself around and, with a few trotting steps, descended the stairs to accept the offered meal.

"Thank you so much, Lil." Hestia responded, taking the wrapped box, "I'll make sure to enjoy every bite."

The girl looked up at her and returned the Goddess' grin with a little smile of her own, happy to be appreciated. With that the Goddess turned to leave again, being stopped once more by the young girl's voice calling out behind her.

"Um, Goddess?" the girl murmured, almost as if embarrassed.

"What is it, Lillian?" Hestia replied, turning and descending the stairs once more.

The girl fidgeted shyly with her dress as she considered her question, clearly embarrassed for some reason or another. At last her slender lips parted as she put breath to her words.

"Goddess, could I come to work with you?" Lillian asked timidly.

"Why would you want to do that, Lil?" Hestia replied, stifling a giggle.

Once more the girl fidgeted with her dress, eyes locked firmly upon the ground at her feet, as she hesitated to give the reason behind her request. Perhaps humility or perhaps timidity barred the girl's words at first, setting her gaze to the floor as Hestia looked upon her. After a few brief moments of this odd standoff, Lillian raised her emerald gaze to meet the Goddess' questioning sapphire stare.

"I want to help out as much as I can…" she began before trailing off, trying to put her reason to words, "I lost the job I got at the inn, since I didn't show up for days…"

Lillian's nerves were ablaze with shame as she spoke her request, though the source of the emotion was anyone's guess. Hestia merely kept watching, assured by the girl's posture that she had yet more to say.

"Um, so…" Lillian continued at last, "I want to go see what your job is like. I thought, maybe you could…"

"Maybe I could talk my boss into hiring you, huh?" Hestia replied, interrupting the girl's awkward chatter.

"Um… Yes." Lillian affirmed, her off-blonde hair waving through the air as she vehemently shook her head.

Hestia's posture took on somewhat of a more serious look as she straightened herself, truly looking at the girl before her. They were fairly recent acquaintances yet already a sense of camaraderie had bloomed between them. So Hestia, taken slightly aback by Lillian's request, looked into her soul for a moment to ascertain exactly why the girl wanted to push herself so badly. Though admirable to the Goddess, Lillian seemed nearly hysterical at times the way she'd push herself to try and accomplish some unknown goal.

"Are you afraid to rely on him, Lillian?" the Goddess inquired, somewhat ashamed of herself for peering into the girl's heart.

The girl stiffened at this sudden light shining onto the deepest reaches of her psyche. Her eyes looked up to the brilliant beauty of the face staring down at her. With a faint and unconscious tremor, running from head to toe upon the small figure, Lillian simply stared at Hestia.

"No, Goddess, that's not it…" she said, trying to hide a feeling she herself did not want to acknowledge.

Hestia's face lit up after this brief exchange, taking on a by now familiar aura as she gazed at the slightly flustered girl. A sweet warmth blossomed from her presence, her features seeming to soften, as Hestia's mien became once more akin to motherly towards Lillian. The shame she felt for peering into the girl's soul practically evaporated, replaced now by a sense she had until very recently felt only towards Bell. It was a strong wish to guide and protect that burned in the Divine's heart.

"You know, Lillian," she spoke as she slowly descended the stairs, "I'm certain Lincoln wouldn't want you to push yourself so hard…"

With that, Hestia wrapped her arms softly around the girl's tiny frame. She pulled her into a gentle embrace, wondering passingly exactly why she felt so towards this little one. Yet, dismissing the inquisition of motive, Hestia poured herself into her next few words.

"You've got something very special, you know?" she whispered, patting Lillian's head softly, "A brother like that who's so concerned he'd go into such a dangerous line of work for you. I think you'd show more appreciation if you didn't push yourself so hard, yeah?"

Lillian shivered ever so slightly again at the Goddess' words, striking so close to home as they did. She wanted to explain herself, perhaps even to justify herself, to the compassionate Deity holding her in so soft an embrace. Yet the weight of knowing that Hestia's observations were dead on the mark stayed her tongue, so Lillian merely returned the embrace.

"I'll talk to my boss if you'll promise me not to push yourself too hard, Lil." Hestia finally spoke, carefully breaking away from the mutual embrace.

"I will, Goddess." Lillian assented, her eyes now tearing up.

Hestia beamed a wide grin toward her, giving some color back to the girl's vaguely pallid cheeks. Both smiled to each other lightly as Hestia decided to add one more tidbit to her conditions.

"I think you should probably talk to your brother about it too." Hestia said, turning to leave at last, "He'd definitely want to know if you were planning to do something like this. I think he'd be proud of you for it, too."

Lillian smiled deeply as she watched Hestia ascend the stairs and leave the little room under the church. Her cheeks were still warm with the presence of Hestia's reassurance, giving her a feeling of approval almost. She now knew she needed to address her concerns, realizing at the Goddess' observations that much burned within her heart that craved resolution.

The girl thought briefly of her departed parents, the pained words of a dying father ringing fleetingly through her mind, as she set herself back to the housework yet left undone.

θ

Bell and Lily sat across from each other with a small, round table between them. The two diligently counted and stacked coins they pulled from a fairly hefty sack situated in the center of the table. Welf and Lincoln had already departed, leaving the two behind to count up the day's haul while they discussed blacksmithing and other such pleasantries. Neither Bell nor Lily were angry at this, instead being relieved that both the new members of their party were getting along so well. It had been a dynamic comprised of only this odd duet for nearly two weeks, during which a strong bond had formed due to the resolution of some unsavory circumstances, which they feared would be upset by the new arrivals.

After Bell had so selflessly sacrificed his wellbeing to ensure Lily's survival, the young prum had started to notice an odd feeling whenever those ruby eyes fell upon her. Their initial acquaintance had been colored with deceit and treachery, entirely the fault of the prum, yet this had not swayed the heart of the boy. He had at some point decided, seeing much of himself within the young prum, that he would settle her into his heart alongside his Goddess. To protect and preserve come hell or high water.

She could sense this in the occasional sideways glance or concerned glare that she could feel from him. The feeling was so foreign to her it seemed almost unreal, that another living person would be so concerned over her welfare. Yet Lily's heart swelled with great jubilee whenever the thoughts crossed her mind, a missing piece now being filled in bit by bit with Bell's kindness. So here she sat across from the snowy-haired boy, counting coins and contemplating her own heart in the back of her consciousness.

"Mister Bell, the bag's empty." She nearly sang, a tone of contentedness permeating her voice.

"Ah, so it is." Bell replied lackadaisically.

"Is something wrong, Mister Bell?" Lily asked, her eyes upon the boy's seemingly morose face.

"No, nothing's wrong." Bell replied swiftly, and perhaps somewhat curtly, "I counted fifteen-thousand. You?"

Lily swallowed her concern, thinking the boy was probably just tired, and opened her tiny mouth to give her reply.

"Lily counts thirteen-thousand, Mister Bell." She responded, good mood more or less unfazed.

"So then, that makes twenty-eight huh?" Bell spoke, seemingly more to himself than to Lily.

"That's pretty good considering we never went below floor six today, right?" Lily observed.

"Yeah, I guess so." Bell replied with a sigh.

The boy sat back in his chair, raising a hand to his forehead as if troubled. For a few minutes he sat like that, rubbing his brow as if fighting a headache. The prum watched him in silence, her good mood now beginning to wane as she became assured that something was indeed weighing on him.

Despite a conversation with Hestia upon their first meeting, when Bell had brought her to the church so the two could meet, Lily had not yet let the Goddess' words fully sink in. Whilst Bell had been in another room, fetching tea for all, the diminutive Goddess had leveled her feelings bare before the prum. Along with this display of honesty, she had imparted no less than a few words of advice to the guilt-ridden prum. Yet even still, Lily would occasionally set to self-deprecation at times when the guilt reared its ugly head.

This would be one such time as, against any sensible logic, Lily tended to blame herself if Bell's mood appeared to be anything but happy and healthy. Due mostly to this, she decided to press the matter to see what was wrong and whether or not she could assist.

"Mister Bell, please tell Lily if something's sitting heavy on your thoughts." She spoke as politely as she could manage.

Bell straightened up in his seat at this, looking across the table to meet the gaze of the chestnut eyes trained intently upon him. His face, somewhat tinged with worry, gave a small grin in response to Lily's words.

"I'm fine, Lily, honestly." He said, though the words seemed dubious to her.

"Then why does Mister Bell look so worried?" she asked, pressing the matter.

"I'm not really worried, per se." Bell replied, leaning back in his chair once more, "I'm just wondering if I'm good enough to teach Lincoln how to fight in just two weeks."

At that, Lily understood what was on his mind. As ever, when the boy's face seemed dour or concerned it was nearly always due to that woman. The Kenki, ever on the boy's mind, had clearly left no small impression upon him. Though Lily only knew a little of his lessons with the Sword Princess, the secret instruction he'd received shortly before encountering the Minotaur, she could see he was once more comparing himself against her.

It was no secret, of course, that Bell had developed feelings for the magnificent beauty after she'd rescued him nearly a month earlier. Aiz Wallenstein, the amazing adventurer that had broken all records previously set by her peers, was the very target towards which this overly kind boy had been pushing. Now tasked with the instruction of another, Lily was certain that the source of his worry was this selfsame comparison as he continued to reach for the Kenki's side. Which is to say, to be worthy of standing beside her.

"Lily thinks Mister Bell is a great teacher…" the prum spoke timidly, "Lily has been watching after all and it looks like Mister Lincoln is improving lots."

"Thank you, Lily." Bell replied, his worried demeanor relaxing somewhat.

The two shared a nervous chuckle, breaking the ice that had accumulated during this uncomfortable exchange, as they began to deliberate the next day's dungeon-diving schedule.

Ψ

The small room under the shabby little church was lit up this night with a nearly festival atmosphere. All of Hestia Familia, including Welf and Liliruka, were gathered around the small table in the center of the living room. Said table was adorned with delectable morsels, prepared lovingly by the Goddess and Lillian to greet the returning adventurers this night.

Covering the tabletop entirely were various bowls and plates filled with a delicious-looking, albeit made of cheap ingredients, assortment of stews and breads. A particularly large bowl was filled with an expertly prepared garden salad, just as appetizing as the rest of the meal despite its questionable source. Six sets of hungry eyes, the two cook's included, gazed enthusiastically as accompanying stomachs growled with anticipation.

"It looks so good!" Bell cried happily, his famished stomach growling in agreement.

"Yeah, this looks amazing!" Welf gave his own near-shout of concurrence.

"Thank you very much for this meal, Lil, Goddess." Lincoln harmonized, though in a calmer tone.

"Lily can't wait to dig in!" cried the prum, her chestnut eyes sparkling with zeal.

All faces were soon stuffed as the group tore apart the carefully prepared meal, devouring it so thoroughly as to leave no leftovers whatsoever. The clinking and clanging of forks and spoons upon wooden plates could be heard during the manic consumption of the meal, colored by brief interludes of boisterous laughter and chatter. Smiles and wide grins decorated faces glowing with jubilation as the little room was filled with fellowship.

"Lillian should've seen Mister Lincoln in the dungeon today!" Lily cried happily between large bites of salad, "He slew so many monsters and looked so cool doing it!"

"I'll bet he did." Lillian replied, hiding a giggle behind her tiny hand.

"Well, that's if you don't count the messes Bell had to keep bailing me out of." Lincoln chimed in with surprisingly good humor, "The kid may be young, but he's one helluva teacher."

To this, Bell hid his blushing face beneath his snow-white bangs, which did little to actually obscure the crimson hue of his face. Lincoln, however, kept up his spiel detailing the various tips and tricks Bell had been trying to drill into his head.

"Hey, don't forget about the stances I've been showing you!" Welf interjected, feigning an attitude of irritation as he spoke.

"You mean the stance that almost got me beaten by a kobold?" Lincoln replied, playing along with the jesting attitude.

"Not my fault you're slower than all the other level twos out there." Welf jeered, sticking his tongue out playfully.

So continued the lively banter for nearly two hours as the denizens of the church enjoyed each other's company. Once the main courses were finished Lillian removed herself from the group, disappearing into the kitchen. She returned shortly, grasping a small tray between her hands. Upon the tray sat a variety of adorably shaped cookies, a different recipe from the previous week. She handed them out to everyone one by one, splitting the tray equally among all. Once emptied she left for the kitchen once more, returning finally with her own plate of the treats.

Lillian reclaimed her seat and the group once more set into their conversation and merrymaking as they savored the desert prepared by the young girl. At last the meal came to a halt, the deserts finished and all participants satisfyingly filled with good food. Here the conversation took on a slightly more serious tone, though this did nothing to the good mood still permeating the air.

Bell looked to Lily and gave a knowing nod, the prum in turn rising from her seat to go dig through here gigantic backpack. The view was almost comical as the enormous pack seemed to swallow up the girl leaning into it, searching fervently for something. The entire table shared a lighthearted chuckle shortly before Lily emerged from the pack, holding a sufficiently stuffed sack of something heavy in her thin arms.

"Me and Lily counted up today's haul and we've prepared it for splitting." Bell said, face still decorated with a calm smile from the meal.

"Today was a good day!" Lily said excitedly as she seated herself, placing the sack of coins on the table with a thud, "We didn't even go deeper than floor six, and still broke twenty-five thousand."

The prum's report was met with a light applause from Lillian and the Goddess. Welf and Lincoln sat back in their chairs, crossing their arms across their chests, as both gained a small boost to their masculine pride.

"I guess this gamble might actually pay off, eh Lil?" Lincoln beamed.

Whilst a small conversation broke out, with no particular substance to mention, Lily opened the large sack and pulled out three bags. All were different sizes, though one in particular was notably larger than the other two. Without a word she stood again and walked over to Welf, still preening over his ego, and sat one of the smaller bags in front of him. After this Lily picked up the larger bag and pushed it over to Bell, seated nearly beside her, as she sat down once more.

"Wow, this is kinda heavy…" Welf observed with a whistle of approval.

"Mister Welf's split was a little over four thousand." Lily replied succinctly.

"Oh? And how much does the shrimp get today?" Welf jeered the prum, a devilish grin across his face.

"That's none of your business!" Lily replied, more than a little irritated with the nickname Welf had picked for her just a few days earlier.

Bell glanced nervously between the two, though his apprehension was admittedly unfounded, before finally turning his gaze to Lincoln. He grasped the sack of coins sitting just in front of him and opened it up, addressing the man at the same time.

"I know you're a part of the Familia, Lincoln…" he began, trailing off as he considered how to broach the subject.

Lincoln turned his own gaze to the boy, a look of confusion across his face. Bell looked as if he were fidgeting with uncomfortable words within his head, to which Lincoln couldn't help but to laugh. The sight of the boy, who often times fumbled his words due to baseless embarrassment, was quite hilarious to Lincoln more often than not.

"What's up, Bell?" he asked.

"Well, I didn't know if you'd want your split separate or not…" Bell muttered, focusing his thoughts at last.

To this Lincoln had to set down the cup of tea he was about to sip, briefly thanking the Goddess in his head that he hadn't done so. He erupted into a bout of raucous belly laughter. So loud and sudden was it, all at the table immediately jumped in surprise at his outburst.

"Goodness, Lincoln, what's so funny?!" Hestia cried, thanking her lucky stars she hadn't spilled the piping hot tea in her lap.

"Wow, Bell, you caught me off guard there." He replied, virtually ignoring the Goddess.

"Um… was it that funny?" Bell asked nervously.

"No no, just surprising." Lincoln said as he wiped a tear from his eye, "But in any case I don't need a separate split of loot, Bell."

"Jeez, man, you could've just said that…" Welf chimed in, clutching his chest, "Didn't have to go scaring us all with that cackle of yours."

"Well, I'm happy to pile it all up for the Familia." Lincoln reaffirmed, stifling further laughter, "Besides, you're treating my sister so well. That means more to me than the money."

Lincoln's posture straightened up as he spoke this, his aura changing quite neatly over to absolute seriousness. He picked up his tea and took a few brief sips, wetting his throat for something he'd been wanting to say for most of the last week. It was quite important, to Lincoln that is, that he have the wording properly thought out before voicing this piece. Therefore, now that he'd mostly settled on what he wanted to say, he decided it was a decent time to give his thoughts.

"Goddess, Bell, Liliruka, Welf…" he addressed his companions one by one, silencing the room with the gravity of his tone, "You all know why I came here. Lillian is my one and only objective reason for being an adventurer. Her medicine is as necessary to her as food. That medicine isn't cheap, either."

The young man took one more sip of the slightly bitter tea, placing his cup on the table and taking a breath to continue.

"I just want to be clear that I'm not looking for fame, fortune or power. None of that nonsense means anything to me. Goddess, Bell, since you've been so kind as to invite me into your Familia, and to set my sister up with a reliable source for her medicine no less, know that my loyalty is bought in full."

Lincoln leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he let his words sink in for a moment.

"So, no more of this nonsense about splitting loot." He said curtly, wrapping up his thoughts, "If Lillian is taken care of then that's all the pay I need for anything I do for the Familia."

All eyes were trained on Lincoln in the wake of this monologue. Lillian's were even somewhat wet with tears after her brother's little display of conviction. Hestia and Bell both looked to the man reclining in his chair across the table from them. Lily also watched raptly, her heart somewhat jealous of the lucky sister.

"Wow, aren't you the serious one?" Welf spoke up, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room.

Lincoln turned his gaze to the redhead and flashed a brief, cheeky smirk at him.

"Damn straight, and I meant every word."

"Well, in any case I think it's about time I start heading home." Welf replied with a yawn.

The redhead stood and stretched himself out before giving his thanks and saying his goodbyes. Lily was soon to follow suit, the members of Hestia Familia saying their words of parting to the two. Before they could leave, Lily made sure to dispense the plans for the next day. Once all were on the same page regarding the next day's dungeon foray, the two ascended the stairs and left.

Once they'd gone, all four residents of the ruined church set about cleaning the remains of the little dinner party. Lincoln and Bell collected the dishes alongside Lillian and Hestia, bringing the mess to the kitchen. Upon depositing the dirty dinnerware, the guys left to start picking up the trash whilst the girls set to cleaning up in the kitchen. Eventually, after picking up and sweeping the living room, the two tuckered out adventurers planted their rears firmly onto one of the sofas and started to relax, striking up a light conversation between them.

In the kitchen, Lillian and Hestia were doing much the same. Neither was in any particular rush to finish the small mountain of dirty dishes decorating the left side of the sink. Instead, both were happily chatting each other up while leisurely cleaning the dinnerware piled beside them.

"We really blew that outta the water, eh Lil?" Hestia proclaimed, grinning to herself.

"Yeah, it was pretty amazing. You're quite the talented cook, Goddess." Lillian replied whilst scrubbing a particularly resilient piece of grime.

"Nah!" Hestia answered quickly, her face blushing slightly at the comment.

The two stood there for a few minutes more, scrubbing away at the gradually shrinking pile of dishes. Lillian's good mood went so far as to even have her humming a tune her mother once sang along to long ago. Though this melody had at one point brought Lillian to tears with the memories it carried, her present situation colored it in a different light. Her heart now warmed with a new family, her brother now beside her once more, the melody once more carried happiness to her ears.

"So, are you going to ask him tonight?" Hestia's voice rang into her ears, breaking the girl's thoughts from the task at hand.

Lillian instinctively tensed at the thought of the conversation to which the Goddess was referring. It wasn't a sense of dread so much as a lack of confidence in her own ability to approach the subject. Settling herself somewhat with a few deep breaths, and after glancing around the half wall to be sure Lincoln hadn't heard, she turned to reply.

"Don't you think it could wait maybe a day or two?" Lillian asked weakly.

"I don't know…" Hestia sighed, setting down the dish she had been working on, "My boss isn't that patient and I told him you were ready to start tomorrow…"

Lillian's heart sank at this as the Goddess' face etched a devious smirk across her lips. Looking at the childish visage, Lillian couldn't decide if the Goddess was teasing her or had in fact set it up so she would have to approach the topic tonight. Lillian's tiny form shuddered lightly as Hestia flashed the same wily grin, almost a look of victory upon her.

"I guess I'll do it tonight then." Lillian relented with a sigh.

She set down the dish she was working on and dried her hands off. After this she listlessly undid her apron, removing it and hanging it on a hook just a few feet away. As the girl sauntered into the living room, she was briefly stopped by a tiny hand on her equally small shoulder.

"Don't look so down about it, Lil." Hestia chided her gently, the wily smirk replaced with a genuine grin, "You have more than just a question, right? Approach it all with confidence, or you won't be able to get it off your chest."

The Goddess' words returned fire to Lillian's step, a glimmer of will shining behind her eyes as she nodded in understanding. Hestia patted her shoulder twice before giving her a light, very nearly featherweight, push into the living room. The Goddess watched her smallest child, and surely to be her newest before long, walk out of the kitchen with motherly warmth in her heart.

"Brother…" Lillian murmured timidly, clutching her hands to her chest, "Can I talk to you outside?"

Lincoln looked away from Bell, with whom he'd been sharing a lively conversation about life in the countryside, to lock eyes with his sister. Lillian stood there nervously awaiting his reply for only a moment.

"Sure, Lilly." Lincoln assented happily, giving her one of his familiar grins.

The girl coaxed herself to be strong as she walked with her brother up the stairs to the exterior of the little church.

ϕ

Two shadows crept lazily along the white cobblestones of the alley in front of the church, gazing at the stars above as they sauntered along. Countless little glimmers of light in the infinite blackness above twinkled back at the peering eyes. Their soft light, bright under such a clear night sky, lit the path for the two admirably. This selfsame starlight cast the silhouettes that traced along behind them, seemingly dancing under the sparkling heavens.

Emerald and mahogany eyes were turned skyward, unconcerned with watching the path along which their feet stepped. The two were presently too busy admiring this artistic display put on by the cosmos to remember why they'd exited the cozy little room under the church. Yet as they approached the statue just in front of the church's door, far too sad looking for what it was, their minds were returned to the moment.

The emerald eyes looked from the olive-skinned man beside her to the statue, observing with some small melancholy the shattered half of a face left atop its shoulders. The mahogany eyes sat upon the statue as well, marveling at the craftsmanship that must have gone into such a piece for it to still be standing. Even if it was missing an arm and most of its face, the carved hunk of marble had still admirably weathered the countless years of its existence.

"So, what's up sis?" Lincoln asked at last.

"Um… I wanted to- I mean I…" Lillian stuttered, the confidence imparted by Hestia battling with her own anxiety.

Lincoln chuckled lightly at this, laying one of his gnarled hands upon the top of Lillian's head reassuringly. She turned to look at her brother only to be met with his usual smile, breathing life back into her self-confidence. The calm look in his eyes told her she had nothing to fear from speaking her mind.

"I need to tell you something important, brother." Lillian managed to spit out at last, turning her gaze to the cobblestone below.

"Oh?" Lincoln hummed serenely, "I'm all ears, Lil."

Being that Lillian had never had any real intention to give voice to these feelings, her mind was frantically racing to figure out how to set breath to the thoughts. As the gears turned and ground in her head, Lillian began to almost pour words from her mouth.

"I, um, well… I wanted to work, and the Goddess has a job, and her boss, well, she said he might hire me, so I…" Lillian prattled on nervously, until Lincoln's hand once more patted the top of her head.

There were those same calm eyes staring down on her, perched atop the same reassuring grin, as Lillian looked back up at the face of the man beside her.

"Lil, calm down and just tell me what's on your mind." He uttered just as serenely as before.

Lillian took a deep breath, right hand clutching her dress over the center of her chest, and tried as best she could to settle her mind. She turned her gaze away from her brother and closed her eyes as she calmed and collected her thoughts. Now thinking clearly, or at least as much so as she could, Lillian opened her mouth to speak once again.

"I don't want you to do absolutely everything while I just play housekeeper, brother." She sighed, almost sadly, "I don't want you to be like mom and dad and work yourself to death. I don't want you to do absolutely everything for me…"

The former smith's gnarled hand left the top of her head and Lillian's eyes snapped open as she turned her gaze toward Lincoln once more. He was looking off toward the statue again, though his face showed no sign of anything aside from thoughtful consideration. Deciding it was now or never, Lillian collected herself and continued.

"I want to be able to help support us too, even if it's just a little." She nearly stuttered the words, now shivering faintly, "I don't want to be your burden, brother. I want to be useful somehow, too. Besides just doing little chores here and there…"

Lincoln continued to stare at the morose effigy in front of the church, remembering exactly why it was missing half of its face. He chewed over Lillian's words carefully as he interjected his own thoughts, considering what his sister was trying to get at. Finally, he decided to speak in hopes of coaxing her to continue.

"So, what is it you want to do then?" he asked calmly, though perhaps his tone was ever so slightly colored with concern.

"Well, I want a job too." Lillian answered, her voice still shaky, "That way you won't have to work so hard, brother."

"Did you have something in mind?"

"Well, the Goddess said she talked to her boss and, um…" Lillian stopped midsentence to take a breath, "She says I could work with her if I promise not to push myself too much."

Lincoln placed his hands behind his head and tilted his neck to stare up at the stars once more. He thought for only a moment before responding to the pleading eyes he could feel looking up at him.

"Well, do you promise?" he replied succinctly.

Lillian almost couldn't believe her ears, eyes wide as saucers as she stared at her brother's nonchalant form gazing upon the heavens. She was sure he would put up a fuss about this idea, being that he'd always been so protective of her. She was certain the conversation would devolve into an argument before they made any ground, if they did at all. Yet here it was, her brother essentially acquiescing to her request for what amounted to a modicum of independence to the young girl. She moved her lips weakly as if to respond, yet no sound came out in her stupor.

"I swore I'd take care of you, Lil." Lincoln proclaimed, breaking the silence between them, "I've never faltered on or regretted that decision, you know?"

He turned his mahogany eyes from the heavens to look upon Lillian once more, her emerald orbs meeting his gaze in turn. Showing off slightly yellowed teeth Lincoln gave Lillian his widest and most honest grin to date, almost as if saying he couldn't be happier with his lot in life. The girl just stared in response to this.

"It comes down to what makes you happiest, Lil. Whatever that is, I'll do my best to make it happen for you." He declared, gaze still locked with his dumbfounded sister's.

And it was then that Lillian truly understood what her father had said to her, just as his spirit left the mortal coil behind. She had thought that with her constant contemplation over his words, during the months since his passing, she had gained a real understanding of his meaning. Yet here and now, under the still ringing echo of her brother's avowal, Lillian had an epiphany of sorts as to what was truly meant. Once again this was thanks to her last paragon, standing beside her with his caring gaze still firmly upon her.

It was what her brother had chosen as his method to display his loyalty as her family. He had decided that in order for himself to be fulfilled and happy, his sister would have to be such first. He had chosen to put her above himself in order to find his own sought-after sense of accomplishment. This was the reasoning behind what Lillian had perceived to be the burden she placed upon him, which was in fact his own choice to act as a guardian and provider for her.

Lillian's heart swelled with great joy at this newfound understanding, her emerald eyes glossing over with tears. Her gaze still locked upon her grinning brother, Lillian gave her own heartfelt smile in answer as she affirmed how she wished to reply.

"Thank you, Lincoln." She spoke softly, imparting her earnest feelings by use of his name, "I'll take that job, I'll promise not to push too hard and I'll make you proud of me."

"I'm already proud of you, Lil." He replied peacefully, "I won't lie, it does scare me a little for you to do this. But I feel like you need it about as much as you want it, so if you won't forget that promise then it's okay."

"I'll keep mine if you keep yours, brother." Lillian declared as her smile returned with due vigor.

"Yeah, I'll keep mine too Lil."

The siblings, having reached grounds of closer understanding, shared a hug before returning to the room beneath the church. As Lincoln returned to his conversation with Bell, seeming as though he'd never left the couch at all, Lillian relayed the results of her request to Hestia with much elation.

β

"Hello, sir! My name is Lillian Ansley and I'm honored to work here!" Lillian proclaimed nervously, bowing her head deeply before the man in front of her.

The surly old blacksmith sizing up his new employee was the proprietor of the particular Hephaestus Familia store at which Hestia was working to repay her debt. Lillian had very nearly been frightened to death by the man's imposing figure upon first entering the store. Therefore, as was her usual response to an intimidating individual, she had immediately assumed a posture and tone of utter politeness. So there she stood, head bowed as if addressing a king, while greeting her new boss for the first time.

"Little Hestia 'ere says yer quite the 'ard worker, lass." The smith nearly gurgled with a heavy, distinct accent.

"Ye- Yes, Sir!" Lillian replied quickly, the thought of raising her head never once crossing her mind.

"Oi, calm down now girly. Ye can raise yer 'ed, aye?" he seemed to chew the words more than speak them.

Lillian tentatively lifted her head from the deep bow, nervously meeting the old smith's one good eye. The marred left eye still remained in its socket, a grisly horror she wished were hidden by anything at all. Yet even this distraction could not serve to avert Lillian's anxiety as the old smith looked her over from head to toe, doing his best to figure out where to place her to work in the shop.

"Yev got a good personality to ya, lass." He stated gruffly, "I think yud do fine 'elping the customers find what they're shoppin fer, aye."

Lillian turned her anxious gaze to the Goddess, attempting in vain to hide herself behind a nearby armor display, in hopes of some sort of encouragement or perhaps even rescue. The Goddess' sapphire eyes glimmered with pride as they stared at her, but alas no hope of intervention was offered by Hestia's gaze. So with a sigh, Lillian turned to look at her new boss once more.

"Well, sound good to ya missy?" the old man rasped his inquiry.

"Yes, Sir! I'll perform my duties with due vigor!" Lillian affirmed, now thoroughly broken out in a cold sweat.

"Good! Hestia, come show yer lil protégé the ropes, aye?!" the old man roared, eliciting a violent jump of surprise from Lillian.

With that thunderous outburst, the old smith turned and shambled off toward the workshop to the rear of the store. He disappeared behind a thin red curtain, leaving the two girls to run the store while he attended to other matters. Seeing this, Hestia emerged from her poorly chosen hiding place and wrapped Lillian in an energetic hug.

"That was great, Lil!" she squealed, "I was nearly in tears after being introduced to that surly old codger…"

"Goddess, why didn't you tell me he was so scary…?" Lillian replied, choked with tears of fright.

"Ah! Lillian, you're crying?!"

The day seemed it would go on forever to the Goddess and Lillian. Hestia toured the girl around the store, explaining every detail of her new duties she could think of. Lillian in turn asked questions and diligently took what mental notes she could. Every now and again their parade of instruction would be interrupted by the odd customer, come in to find some piece of armor or a weapon.

After the fourth, which Hestia had handle up to that point, Lillian took over and began to perform her saleswoman duty. The Goddess watched with pure amazement as the girl strived to fill her new role. Making up for her lack of academic prowess, Lillian poured every ounce of her determination into fulfilling her tasks. Thus it went, Lillian learning and performing to her utmost while Hestia marveled at her amazing luck when it came to finding members for her familia.

At last, after their shift had finally passed and it was time to leave, both breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Hanging up their aprons and putting away their uniforms in a back room, Lillian and Hestia prepared themselves to go home for the day. The old blacksmith gave them both a fond wave, eyeing Hestia with annoyance when Lillian wasn't looking, as they left the store.

"You were awesome, Lil!" Hestia beamed as the two waltzed lazily through Babel's winding halls.

"It was fun, Goddess." Lillian replied bashfully, "But our boss is really frightening…"

Hestia giggled lightly to this, wrapping one of her thin arms around the girl's shoulder. The two continued home, lightheartedly discussing this and that the entire way.


	10. When the Weak Break

Chapter 9

When the Weak Break

Ω

The air within the dungeon this day was cold and bitter, attesting well to the changing of the season. Harvest was long behind now, its autumn breezes a forgotten memory, and Freeze was thoroughly settling in for the long haul. Even the halls of the dungeon, nestled deep in the ground beneath the monstrous Babel Tower, were no exception to the penetrating chill that now wandered the winds. Just within the first few rooms of floor six, in a particularly large square of a room, stood a small party of adventurers. This group might have been marveling at the magnificent cold this day were they not so thoroughly surrounded by killer ants and dire rabbits.

The chestnut eyes of a young prum leapt back and forth between the throng of insects, now thoroughly unnerved at an all too familiar sight. This very same horror had been the setting to what she had once assumed would be her death. Surrounded on all sides by the clicking mandibles of the massive ants, their compound eyes baring down upon her. Yet this time was different, as she was also surrounded by companions. Nay, this time she was surrounded by friends and she knew her life was in good hands.

Yet even still, with capable adventurers fanned out around her, the prum's nerves stood somewhat on end as the insects chattered away. It was quite the welcomed relief when their din was broken with a sudden shout, followed swiftly by the crackling of some twisted combination of lightning and fire.

"Firebolt!" shouted a whitehaired boy, setting the room ablaze.

"Now!" called another, his hair the dark brown of strong coffee.

Both he and the redhead charged out to either side into the crowd of ants. They ran almost as if racing to make contact with the critters before the boy's spell. The results were, at least for the monsters, quite disastrous. This even more so once the whitehaired one joined the fray. From all around resounded the pained shrieks of the insects as they were cut down, burnt and crushed one by one.

"Bell, I can't catch that one!" the redhead shouted, referring to an ant that had broken off toward the prum.

The whitehaired boy broke off immediately, closing the three or so meters to the ant rushing toward Lily. A bright flash of violet light cut across her field of view, the ant splitting in half before bursting into a cloud of dust. A weakly glowing stone dropped to the floor where it had stood, bouncing twice before coming to a rest.

With a reassuring smile the boy turned and leapt back into the fray, now mostly over through the efforts of his fellow fighters. A few minutes more of the flashes and clangs of their melee and silence once more crept into the room. In almost no time at all the group had dispatched a veritable horde of the creepy crawlers. The prum smiled in amazement, staring wonderingly at the many magic-stones lying all across the ground. Admiring the sparkling stones a moment longer, like stars scattered across the heavens, the prum set about her duty of gathering the dropped items.

"You've really gotten the hang of this, Linc." the redhead stated proudly.

"Yeah, I feel like you've improved a lot the last couple days." Bell concurred.

Lincoln just smiled humbly at the praise, sheathing his blade with satisfaction as they watched Lily go about collecting the loot. It had been a full twelve days now since his training had begun. In that time, despite the difficulties of the first week, he had made leaps and bounds through his efforts. With all the practice and the patience of his fellows, Lincoln had gotten a solid grasp on a wide variety of techniques and stances.

The results showed themselves in spades as the party fought their way through the floors this day. With their destination settled on the eighth floor, the group had been cutting their way through hordes of monsters. Thanks to Lily's careful preparations they were able to attract far more monsters than they should've run across under normal circumstances. The prum had made a wondrous display of her penchant for creating monster lures indeed.

Now Lincoln, beaming with pride and excitement, could simply not stand and watch the girl work all by herself. Therefore, he stepped away from the other two adventurers and set to collecting the stones from the ground as well. He hoped that with the both of them working to collect the drops they would be ready to move quicker. That and he simply couldn't watch a young girl go about such an arduous task all alone.

"Mister Lincoln, Lily can handle this!" the prum cried with slight irritation.

The man simply smiled to himself, halfway ignoring Lily's agitation, as he picked up stone after stone. There were so many too, seemingly countless little sparkles strewn all across the floor. It hadn't occurred to Lincoln in the heat of battle, but he now spared a moment to wonder exactly how many critters they had killed in total. As he continued gathering the little glimmers he began to truly marvel at the progress he'd made.

All thoughts were suddenly broken, each of the party members jumping in surprise, when a high-pitched scream tore through their victorious silence. All the stones Lincoln had collected, held neatly in his left hand, suddenly scattered across the floor. Almost instinctively the man rose to a standing position, concentrating his ears towards the exit across the room from whence the scream had originated.

"Please tell me someone else heard that…" Welf muttered, his face just a shade or two paler.

But none answered. Lincoln was focusing all of his attention to assure himself he had indeed heard a scream and not the call of some monster. Bell also listened for the noise, but not for the same reason. The original reason for his becoming an adventurer took over once more, if only for a moment, as they boy tried to figure out if the scream he'd heard was a female.

"Um, why did someone scream...?" this time it was Liliruka whose voice resounded in the uncomfortable silence.

All ears were now trained on the exit of the large room, waiting to hear something, anything, from further within. The four nearly held their breath, waiting and listening, as they began to conclude it must've been nothing. Perhaps just some newbies that had stumbled across a monster and yelled in surprise, thinking it was stronger than it truly was. This they thought to themselves, lowering their guard and concentration, when the same scream echoed through the room once more.

Lincoln's face drained of all color, his olive skin very nearly turning white. The scream had such a familiar feeling to it, so akin to a voice he knew all too well. In fact, it sounded so close to his own sister when he'd broken his arm years ago. The alarmed, pained scream she'd given off that day, vocalizing her fright at the odd angle of his arm. Though this connection never made it to the forefront of Lincoln's consciousness, still it brought his slightly trembling legs to action.

Without so much as a word the young man tore off into the darkness ahead. Bolting like a demon, not entirely sure why, Lincoln raced for the source of the scream.

Ψ

A beautiful woman sauntered unevenly through the winding halls of floor six. The dog ears atop her light-brown hair were flat against her head with fright. With each step a drop of blood dripped to the floor from one of the many wounds all across her pale skin. Golden eyes peered angrily into the darkness from beneath her bangs, the left nearly blinded by a still flowing trickle of her red life. A long robe barely clung to her shoulders, once a gorgeous teal color but now stained from her myriad injuries.

With each step she cursed under her breath. Her left hand was clenched around her stomach tightly on the same side, trying in vain to assuage the pain from an earlier impact. Her right hand still firmly gripped a long, thin blade that seemed to be a cross between a wakizashi and a saber. The slender blade twinkled slightly under the dim light of the crystals above, at least in the spots where it wasn't covered with some critter's blood.

"Bastards…" she hissed, "Can't I get a little luck?"

She continued her shambling march, occasionally stopping to lean against the wall to catch her breath. Step by step she pushed on, her fluffy tail drooping behind her in pain. She thanked all the Gods whose names she knew, though she hated nearly every one of them, that her father's elven blood bestowed a few gifts on her. Indeed, if not for this genealogical inheritance and the magics it had given her she would have succumbed to her wounds hours ago.

These musings were broken suddenly and quite violently when her ears caught a distinct noise. As one of the ears on top of her head perked up, turning to the source of the noise, the young woman's heart sank with dread. A few slivers of rock fell from the wall some four meters behind her on the left side. Along with this tiny disturbance came the all too familiar crackling sound of the dungeon's most disturbing trait.

Reflexively the half-breed spun around, wincing at the pain coursing through her legs, to take in an awful sight. Indeed, it was just as she'd feared when her ears first caught the vague crackling sound. Before her eyes there were five crevices slowly opening up along both sides of the hallway. It was the birth of more monsters, something she could not afford to deal with in her present state.

"Guess that's a no…" she muttered furiously.

From one of the crevices there appeared a hand, beset with four hideously sharp claws the length of large daggers. It reached outward, clawing at the air around its birthing-fissure, as limbs began to sprout forth from the other fractures as well. One by one the creatures slowly revealed themselves. Sickly thin critters that seemed composed more of darkness than living matter. Long and gangly limbs, arms tipped with daggers for fingers. Murky heads with two little red dots floating around that served as eyes.

The dungeon had once more laughed at the poor woman's pleas for a peaceful departure, instead giving her what was probably her worst nightmare. It had once again affirmed its ill intent toward all sentient races, herself clearly being no exception. For here were five horrid creatures clawing their way out of the very walls, their hearts filled with only one desire. Here were five war shadows coming forth to finish this young half-breed off.

"Darkness, embrace me…" she chanted quietly as possible.

At the sounding of her hushed utterance, a veil of dark violet light enveloped the woman. Her figure was not changed but as the shadows emerged and looked around, their gaze passing directly over her, she was not noticed. Grimacing at the gradually building headache, a result of her overuse of magic, the woman carefully crept away. With a hand on the wall to brace herself she slowly stepped backwards, her eyes never leaving the shadows lazily sauntering around.

Her vision had already begun to blur slightly at this point, telling her there was no more wiggle room. Her magic was at its limit and any further spells would render her unconscious for certain. This in mind, and knowing she had only around ten seconds to remain unnoticed, she urged herself to go as fast as she could without making too much noise.

Feeling she was almost there, the young woman turned her gaze briefly to look down the hallway behind her. She was indeed only a few more long strides from a turn which would allow her to break the sightline of her potential assailants. Yet it would clearly not be so easy, for as she turned to face the shadows again her heel kicked against something just a little too hard. With a heart stopping dread welling up inside her, the woman froze as a large pebble bounced noisily across the dungeon floor.

Instantly all five pairs of eyes turned toward her, just as the effects of her spell were wearing off to boot. Her eyes narrowed and her face lost all color as the shadow's unsettling gazes fixed upon her form. Their claws began to flex as if cutting the air. A chitter started to sound from their murky heads, gradually increasing in tempo as the creatures taunted her. With sinister shuffles they proceeded to slowly cover the distance.

The woman's left hand instinctively moved from the wall to grip her odd sword, her feet spreading to firm her stance. Her tail straightened from its previously droopy position, betraying her trepidation. With cold sweat pouring from every pore the half-breed stared down what would likely amount to her doom. Yet instead of fear her face was decorated with an angry grin. Her unusually pointy canines were bared proudly toward the shadows.

Just as she was considering one of her father's last lessons, to never turn your back and flee from death, the first shadow charged in. It was lightning fast, a shadowy streak cutting through the air, but still slightly slower than the injured woman.

She managed to dodge its first strike, turning her lithe frame to let its claw sail harmlessly by. As a counter she raised the sword high and readied herself to cleave the critter's head from its shoulders. However, a sudden pain running through her gut stopped her. In her haste to finish her opponent she had torn one of her many cuts open further, eliciting a terrible pain for her trouble.

This sudden hesitation gave the shadow just the time it needed. With little hesitation of its own, the creature slammed the back of its right hand hard into her exposed stomach, knocking the half-breed into the nearby wall. She landed with a sickening crack and slid painfully to the ground.

The moment she gasped a lungful of air, now overcome with excruciating pain, the young half-breed screamed in agony at the top of her lungs. So loud was her pitch, echoing down the blueish halls, the shadow was momentarily disoriented and staggered a few steps back. She sat there for only a moment, fighting back the urge to wallow in her agony. With a titanic feat of will she urged herself to leap to her feet. The pain that rang through her very being was nothing short of divine in its intensity.

But there would be no quarter or consideration from her accosters. With almost no warning two more shadows closed in on the young woman, their claws glistening with ill intent under the hall's dim lighting. She saw them clearly despite their speed, another gift she thanked her departed parents for. The first pair of claws was dodged fairly easily despite her confining injuries, yet the second not so much.

With another twist of her lithe form she had easily dodged the first pair. Yet this very motion had virtually propelled her back into the path of the second set of claws. The creature took merciless advantage of this opening, tearing a wide swath across her robe as it sliced neatly through her skin. Pain blossomed like fireworks through her body as a new trickle of blood washed with warmth down her back. Along with this, the force of the impact threw her forward through the air.

With another bloodcurdling scream, this one equally powerful in pitch, the half-breed hit the ground with a thud. At this, had her lungs not been emptied by her scream she would've still been left gasping raggedly for air.

Eyes clinched tightly shut, pained tears nearly pouring down her battered face, the woman shifted her hands beneath her. With every fiber of her being she pushed on the ground, trying in vain to lift herself to face her opponents. This was no use however as her muscles were completely tapped out. Now pushed to the very limits of her fatigue her arms gave out entirely, her face hitting the ground once more.

"You sons of…" she muttered through heavy sobs.

With what little strength she had left to muster, the half-breed managed to turn herself over. Even if she couldn't fight her accosters any further she had no intention of dying with her face in the dirt. With a final look of defiance, the young woman stared up at the approaching shadows. Their eerie red eyes danced maniacally within the shifting murk that passed for their heads. Along with this there came a loud chatter like the taunting laugh of a sore winner.

She only glared at them in response to this. Her golden eyes shone proudly with fury as she watched her executioners approach. Gradually, as the shadows encroached ever closer, the young woman's vision began to fade. Just as her sight all but left her, while the first shadow to reach her readied its killing blow, a flash of steel sailed across her darkening view. With this last sight her consciousness faded entirely to black.

β

Lillian's emerald eyes reflected keenly off an enormous tower shield, dusted and burnished to perfection. Having finished polishing the final set of armor within the store she stood slowly to her feet. Her face beaming with pride, earned rightly through a job well done, she gazed happily across the store. Her tiny frame heaved a great sigh of satisfaction when a small, slightly cold hand lightly clasped her shoulder.

"You did an amazing job, Lil!" Hestia proclaimed, her face full of pride as well.

Lillian's face flushed red at this sudden compliment, her embarrassment intensified slightly by her own preening. It was no secret that the young girl was giving everything she had to this job. Indeed, though she had promised not to push herself too hard she was still testing her limits. To that end she was more than a little proud of herself, this only intensified by the Goddess' praise.

Recovering herself, Lillian returned the Goddess' kind words with a smile. With her task of polishing the armor displays done she stood to head for the counter, wondering what her next task might be. It had been fairly straightforward thus far, every day filled with either light maintenance or assisting customers. Lillian had in fact found out that she had quite a knack for memorizing things, this shown by her managing to lock the store's entire catalogue of merchandise in her mind within only two days. Due to this she was now the first choice when it came to guiding customers to whatever they might be shopping for.

"Oi, little newbie!" came a bellowing roar from the back of the shop, "C'mere!"

The girl knew immediately whose voice it was carrying through the shop. It had been the source of no end of fright for her during her first few days. Yet as she had begun to show her fervor and worth the owner of the store, source of the bellowing call, had softened up to her.

"Yes, Sir!" she replied swiftly, "I'll be right there!"

With that she trotted quickly to the counter, dropping her rag off and disappearing under a thin curtain. This curtain served to separate a modestly equipped smithy from the sales floor, an ingenious cost cutter when it came to making repairs for customers. Lillian walked swiftly as she could, without risking her dress being caught on some protruding piece of metal, before stopping in front of a large oaken door.

The door was marred and pitted all over attesting to the many years it had stood there. Years undoubtedly filled with sparks and flaming chunks of metal pelting its wooden surface mercilessly. Burns lay all across the wooden behemoth giving further detail to its character.

With a brief hesitation, more of respect than any sort of fear, Lillian rapped twice upon it. Her tiny hand could barely make a sound over the noisy commotion of the smithy, hammers clinking on steel and iron, yet the old shopkeeper still managed to hear her somehow. After an obnoxiously loud and drawn out creak, the door was fully opened. There stood the enormously framed man, his grotesquely ruined left eye as unsettling as ever.

"Ha, Oi've got sumfin special fer ya, Lil!" he proclaimed with the same baritone voice.

"I'm ready for anything, Sir." Lillian replied firmly.

With a wide smile the old man motioned for her to come in, to which Lillian quickly obliged. This small roomed, cramped beyond measure, served as the old man's office. All around lay ledgers and scrolls, mostly likely utilized for recording purchases and profits. Bits of broken charcoal, cheap writing implements for the budget minded, lay scattered all across his desk. In front of said desk there sat two shabby little wicker chairs pulled back just far enough to leave a small bit of leg room.

Still standing in the doorway, the old man pointed to one of the chairs. No words were needed as Lillian immediately assumed his meaning, walking briskly to the chair and having herself a seat. The old man turned to look back out into the smithy and roared once more in his powerful tone.

"Hoi! Lazy Goddess, get yer arse in 'ere!" he called before slamming the door furiously.

Though she was no longer frightened of him as when they'd first met, Lillian jumped quite hard as the great oaken door slammed shut. She even broke out in a cold sweat as she watched the old man trudge to his desk, flopping himself gracelessly into the gigantic seat behind it. He sat there for a moment, rubbing his temple vigorously, before raising his one good eye. His gaze fell kindly on his newest employee, making Lillian wonder for a moment if the old man's head might be a little addled.

"Lady Hephaestus has given me permission to 'ave a sale." He began matter-of-factly, "Our boys 'ere 'ave been working very hard and we 'ave lots a overstock, which is why Oi asked 'er if we could run a special."

He looked as if he had more to say but stopped himself at the sound of very timid taps coming from the oaken door. Lillian had barely heard it herself and was honestly surprised when the hulk of a man stood to open the door. She was nearly certain that given his place of work he surely couldn't have much left in the way of decent hearing.

Yet apparently he did, having heard the diffident knock resounding from his office door. With two massive strides he was upon the door and opening it quite violently. There stood Hestia, her pale skin alight with the glow of the little smithy, nervously awaiting permission to enter the office.

"Ah, lil Hestia. Going to be timely today, are ye?" the smith scoffed sarcastically, "Come on in then, Oi've gots news fer ye."

The diminutive Goddess crossed the mighty door's threshold, quickly taking the seat to which her boss pointed. The old smith slammed the door just as hard as before, amazing Lillian that its hinges didn't simply crumble under the stress. He took two more massive steps and once more flung himself into his massive chair, the poor thing groaning under his weight. With that he sat up straight and looked from the Goddess to Lillian and back again with his one good eye.

"As Oi said, we'll be 'aving a sale today." He continued, picking up his thoughts, "So yer both goin t'be setting up a big ole display fer the shop afore we open."

He paused for a moment, setting his gaze firmly on the nervously shivering Hestia.

"Lazy Goddess, ye'll be doin all the heavy stuff. Oi don't want lil Lillian ere gettin erself hurt, aye?"

"Ye- Yes, Sir!" Hestia replied vigorously.

"Ha! Good!" the old man bellowed with a laugh, "Now get back t'work, both a ye!"

Ω

Lincoln glared furiously at the red dots swimming confusedly in the shadow's murky head. His blade rested firmly against its claw, just barely intercepting a certainly fatal strike. No damage lay apparent on his blade but the same could not be said for the war shadow's claw. At the point of contact, where talon met cold hard steel, there was a very obvious crack spider-webbing throughout.

The two stood there like this for a few moments, claw baring against blade and vice versa. Their murderous gazes locked together until at last a sickening crack was followed very shortly by the shadow's pained screeches.

With a fierce roar Lincoln pushed his blade on through, shattering the critter's claw and delivering a grisly wound. With one swipe he took its arm off entirely, glistening black shade spewing forth from the severed stump. The creature recoiled violently, its creepy excuse for eyes dancing wildly in its shifting head. It seemed to almost be beckoning to its comrades for help.

"Oh no, you come back here…" Lincoln muttered furiously.

With a push from his left foot he launched himself forward violently, with very little semblance of coordination to his sprinting form. Though the shadow had put a few meter's distance between itself and the lunatic charging it, this was rectified easily. In barely the blink of an eye Lincoln crossed the distance and swung his blade hard.

The creature stood there for a moment, seemingly unable to recognize the fact that its head no longer rested upon its shoulders. After the briefest twitch its entire body evaporated into a fine cloud of dust, a small magic-stone clinking noisily to the floor. Lincoln didn't budge, not even to bring his sword down from its ready position. Instead, he swung his gaze from shadow to shadow. In turn he glared at each of the remaining opponents surrounding him.

"Who's gonna die next?!" he proclaimed confidently.

The shadows shifted around slowly, walking circles around the berserker still standing motionless between them. It looked eerily similar to a hunting party having surrounded its game. Yet the shadows could not have possibly known exactly what mistake they were making by not moving to finish off the frenzied young man. Instead they only circled him, looking for an opening as they chittering maniacally.

"Fine, I'll choose!" Lincoln roared.

Before the first could react he'd thrown his weight to his left, initially listing to the side as if he would fall over. Instead he brought his foot up under himself and pushed with all his might, sending himself careening into the chosen shadow at breakneck speed. With one magnificent slash, a diagonal uppercut Welf had taught him just a few days earlier, he severed the creature in two from hip to shoulder.

It looked at him confusedly for but a moment before dissipating just like its recently fallen brother. The stone it dropped clinked twice upon the cold dungeon floor, coming to rest barely a meter from the unconscious woman at the back of the fray. Lincoln spared a moment to turn his gaze to her when his heart nearly stopped in his chest.

"W- What are you doing here..." he whispered in disbelief.

There she lay, the same woman that had accosted him twice now. Beaten and horribly battered, her gorgeous teal robe stained many times over with what he assumed was her blood, it was unmistakable. The same woman that had no blessing. The same woman who'd treated him as if he were a lover that had cheated on her. A free adventurer laying very nearly dead on the dungeon floor, surrounded by the same critters that had, more or less, killed him only a few weeks earlier.

Right up until the bloody end Lincoln would never be able to entirely figure out what he felt that day, staring at the horribly wounded half-breed laying on the ground. Yet as he stared at her injured form his heart began to boil the blood in his veins with rage. Some deep-seated emotion began to well up from somewhere long hidden, filling his muscles with furious vehemence. He had the sudden notion that every one of those shadows, despite the obvious reasons, needed to be slain quite immediately.

Without turning his gaze to see the first shadow moving upon him, its claw raised high and aimed for his exposed neck, Lincoln spun feverishly with his sword extended. The creature was sliced neatly into three pieces before it could realize it was hit. Lincoln never even registered the soft feeling of dust upon his skin before tearing off to engage the next.

With another spin, after leaping almost a meter to its left, he cut down the fourth shadow with equal ferocity. It hit the ground with a thud, writhing around in pain from the many gashes across its body. With a swift thrust to its head, Lincoln delivered the killing blow and silenced the shade. It evaporated under his blade without another twitch.

"Looks like you're it, buddy." He taunted the remaining shadow, "Sucks to face something stronger than you, huh?"

One must understand that war shadows, being monsters after all, are by no means exceedingly intelligent. Speaking honestly, they can hardly be considered more capable of reasoning thought than a human child of around five, perhaps even six, years of age. Though they are indeed leagues above the rudimentary thoughts of goblins, a war shadow is hardly capable of the tactical thought processes which could make them a truly formidable opponent.

This one, the last of five standing before the blood-frenzied Lincoln, was no exception to this rule. It had little to no capability to assess its surroundings and lay something akin to an ambush, its mind was simply too infinitesimal to do such. It could however understand the instinct for self-preservation, which by this point had quite earnestly taken hold of the shade. As it glared at the chaotic form of the man before it, entirely devoid of any semblance of fatigue, the shadow was quite well afraid.

Bell and the rest, having only just caught up to their companion who'd dashed away so suddenly, watched this scene in utter disbelief. The war shadow staggering backward slowly from the menacing Lincoln, advancing with the shadow's every step back. The woman lying on the ground, clearly thrashed to within inches of death. Lincoln, his face the expressionless form of a murderer baring down on his chosen target.

The shadow turned to run, a sight few had ever seen before. Alas it only took one step before it was cut cleanly from head to toe. Upon its second step it fell into two perfectly symmetrical halves, dissipating entirely before either could hit the ground. Lincoln stood motionless, his sword still held high at the crest of his strike.

"Lincoln…" Bell muttered weakly, but he was not heard.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Lincoln recovered his stance and sheathed his blade. He stood there for a few moments, taking long slow breaths, before turning himself around. With purposeful steps he walked over to the half-breed still lying nearly motionless on the floor.

"What the hell was that…" Welf croaked in awe under his breath, to no one in particular.

After a few long strides Lincoln stood over top of the woman, his gaze falling upon her with clear concern. He took a knee and leaned close to see if she was breathing, quite relieved to see it was so. With that he leaned back, seeming as if he might stand up, before keeling over suddenly to the ground.

Lincoln's mind swelled with the echo of the scream that had brought him there in such a frenzy. As his consciousness faded he marveled at how closely it had resembled his own sister's voice.

ζ

Shimmering silver eyes peered curiously through a divine mirror. The glorious jewels peered from an audaciously beautiful visage. The very face of beauty itself watched the mirror closely, curiosity tinted faintly with envy. The silvery jewels beheld something quite irritating in fact, something that would have to be understood further.

"Ottar…" the full lips beneath those silver eyes called serenely.

From a far corner of the room a gigantic frame stirred at the call. The ever vigilant demi-human, a veritable mountain by any normal standards, approached silently. His enormous frame gave no hinting rustle or disturbance to indicate his movement. Even the air around him seemed unwilling to voice his presence as he took gargantuan strides toward his master's side.

"Ottar, what makes an adventurer truly interesting?" the curious Goddess cooed.

The demi-human twitched his ears reflexively, pondering his master's meaning. From the corner of his eye he vaguely noticed her heaving chest, clearly excited as she watched her most recent fixation. This sight brought a train of thought to his mind, leading him to what he assumed would be a proper answer.

"Adventurers are no different from townsfolk, Milady." He responded in a truly gravelly baritone, "If anything does make them interesting, then it must be something only you can see."

"Oh?" Freya responded.

Though Ottar's answer was just as deferential to his Goddess as usual, it had still caught her somewhat off guard. The Goddess of Beauty leaned forward slightly, looking closer at her chosen prey, and considered her servant's words.

"So, do you have an opinion of the boy yet?" she asked with a tone as if she only half cared.

"He is strong and his purity is without doubt, Milady." Ottar responded without missing a beat, "Though his new company may only serve to hold him back."

Freya's luscious lips parted wryly in an almost cruel smile as she admired the colorless soul in her mirror. She knew she was pushing her luck to keep opening this window just to watch the whitehaired boy, but that mattered little. Once piqued, Freya's interest bordered upon the reckless. As she watched and considered, a thought came to her that simply had to be voiced.

"Ottar, do you think he's worthy to stand beside Bell?" her voice was melodic yet slightly off somehow.

"As an adventurer I do not think he is on the same level, Milady."

"Then perhaps we should see, hm?" Freya's reply came as more of a voiced thought.

The Goddess watched intently still, a hand carelessly wandering across her gifted frame.

β

The shop was all a bustle as the day stretched on into afternoon. Customers had begun to flock in almost as soon as the doors were opened. Indeed, word had spread quickly that one of the Hephaestus shops was holding a sale to thin its inventory and many adventurers had come to try and find something. Anything at all to help them try and get an edge in their dangerous line of work.

Many faces glimmered with excitement as displays were poked and prodded. Eyes shimmered with intrigue as weapons and armor were held and examined, noting any bits of interest for possible purchase. Unfortunately, however, two particularly small female forms could not be counted among this lot.

They dashed about almost maddeningly, rushing between customers and register. So many things to deal with, so many questions to answer. One, jet black hair tied into two ponytails sitting atop a childish face, was quite exasperate and all but through with the situation. The other, off-blonde hair tied into a tight bun sitting atop a very young visage, nearly beamed with excitement to be doing so much at once.

The girls, or girl and Goddess as it were, flitted about the store like two mad hatters, trying their best to keep up with the myriad of patrons that had invaded. Hestia was quite well reaching her mental limit, though her body was still fully capable of handling the duress. Lillian on the other hand, she was quite enjoying herself as so many tasks were levied onto her at once.

She had only just finished ringing up one customer, putting quite the hefty sum into the register, when another called out to her for assistance. A tall and fairly slender cat-eared demi human smiled from across the shop as he waved his hand, motioning for the petite clerk's assistance. She left the register at once, being that no others seemed ready to check out, and nearly skipped with excitement as she acquiesced.

"How can I help you, Sir?" Lillian asked with a grin, not even remotely noticing the scowl Hestia was shooting her way.

Though the Goddess was quite proud of Lillian in all truthfulness, the fact remained that jealousy had also somewhat snuck itself into her ample bosom. The girl was so intent to be her absolute best and Hestia could find no fault in that. Yet, Lillian's insane drive to work so hard was causing just the tiniest bit of friction as their boss began to favor her.

The difference in treatment might have been bearable if it had been more than a few months since Lillian's employment. Alas, as it stood the boss was quite favorable of his newest employee after barely a week. This gave way to more irritation than Hestia would ever care to admit.

"Thank you, come again Sir!" Lillian called out with a smile.

Indeed, during the short time that Hestia had been dwelling on her thoughts about her new coworker the girl had already gotten another customer taken care of. Were the Goddess not about as immature as her appearance would suggest, she would only be filled with admiration.

Completely oblivious of the Goddess' contemplating, Lillian was busy heading off to yet another customer. This one, a lithe female chienthrope, was carefully looking through a display of spears. Her athletic frame easily gave away that her choice of weapon most likely dictated keeping her distance from her opponent.

"Hello Miss, can I help you find something in particular?" Lillian invited, her face still covered with a smile.

"Oh, um…" the woman was taken a little aback by the attentive clerk, "Well, is this all you have in the way of spears?"

"Oh!" Lillian's response was very nearly over animated, "I think we have some more in the back. I'll go fetch them, Ma'am!"

The girl bounded off with that, her demeanor more than cheery. Hestia decided to follow, having overheard the conversation and not wanting to leave the girl to carry a heavy load alone. Though jealousy was indeed hanging around Hestia's thoughts, far more than that she was becoming a little concerned. Lillian had promised not to push herself too hard but it seemed that the frantic air might be getting to her.

"Lil, do you need some help with that?" Hestia offered, watching the girl try to carry three spears and a halberd.

"Oh, I'm okay Goddess." Lillian responded, polite as ever.

Hestia felt just the tiniest bit ashamed for her jealousy. As hard as the girl was working, she deserved every bit of praise and recognition. Yet still, she felt pushed to press the matter.

"Lil, don't you think you might be pushing a little too hard?" the Goddess queried, her concern audible.

Lillian paused at that, her eyes losing just a bit of their excited luster. The two stood there for a moment, the hustle and bustle around the front of the store seeming leagues away. Hestia eyed the girl as she stood there, clutching the bundle of weapons tightly as if afraid.

"I… don't think I am." Lillian whispered at last.

She sounded entirely unsure of herself however, her body language giving off clear signs of awkwardness. Had her hands been empty the girl would've surely begun fidgeting with her uniform's skirt. That being her go-to nervous compulsion after all.

"Look, just don't go overboard." Hestia spoke up, trying to alleviate the awkward atmosphere, "You got a bundle of pretty pointy sticks right there. Try and slow down just a bit, maybe?"

At this, Lillian stiffened up reflexively. She'd been so consumed with giving her best that the thought of doing too much hadn't even crossed her mind. With Hestia pointing out the obvious danger, one she'd quite earnestly been oblivious to, she now felt just a little ashamed of herself. She'd made a promise to her brother and the Goddess, one she did take seriously.

"Um, I'm sorry." Lillian spoke quite softly, "I'll be more careful, Goddess."

"Don't be so glum, ok?" Hestia reassured the girl, "Be careful but keep enjoying yourself, alright?"

Lillian gave the Goddess a weak smile and trotted back into the storefront, the bundle of spears in her arms clinking with each step. Hestia sighed lightly, feeling just a little bad for the girl. She'd never been one to go out of her way to work hard, finding no real interest in it, until she'd met Bell.

That boy was the turning point of Hestia's timeless existence, bringing her an entirely new motivation to excel. As she watched him day after day, always pushing himself so hard, she felt only the desire to help however she could. The jet black knife he carried, just as colorless as her hair, was proof of that. That and the debt she'd happily taken on to get it for him.

The Goddess stood there a moment longer, thinking just how badly it must feel to want to work hard and push yourself. To have that feeling and not be able to because of your own body holding you back from it. This thought cut quite deeply, though she couldn't quite understand why. It did not cut as deeply as what soon came to pass, however.

A loud crash resounded from the storefront, followed quickly by panicked screams. The Goddess was snapped from her ruminations quite violently and ran to see what was going on.

Ω

Lincoln's eyes fluttered open slowly, a raging headache being the first thing to greet him as he awoke. He could feel himself bouncing around and noted something warm across his chest. There was also the sensation of something wrapped around his left arm and leg, accompanied shortly after by the realization he was not in contact with the ground. He blinked a few times to try and clear his eyes when voices became audible to his still waking ears.

"This guy…" someone familiar muttered, "Freakin heavy…"

"We only have a few more floors to go, Welf." Someone else, very familiar, "Try and hold out alright?"

Lincoln's eyes shot open with shock once he realized exactly what was going on. The hard, warm sensation across his torso was his companion's shoulders. The lack of contact with the ground was due to the fact that he was being carried like a sack of grain across the man's back. With a shout of something between irritation and embarrassment, Lincoln threw himself off the man.

"Gah?!" Welf shouted in surprise before tumbling over.

Bell stopped immediately, jumping slightly at the sudden commotion. He turned just in time to watch Lincoln sail through the air like a slab of meat. With no grace or coordination, his body still in the process of rousing itself, Lincoln hit the ground hard. Welf was not much better off, having lost his balance due to the man's sudden outburst. If they weren't all so exhausted this scene might have been funny.

"Glad to see you're awake, Bro." Bell called out.

"Why is… was… Welf carrying me?" Lincoln stuttered, his mouth feeling almost numb.

Welf stood up stiffly, his muscles quite achy from the day's foray. After brushing himself off he walked over to Lincoln, stopping and offering his hand. Lincoln took the hand and as Welf helped him to his feet the younger man explained, very succinctly, what had transpired to him. Even had Welf not been extra sure to make his explanation brief it still would've only taken a few minutes to relay the little they knew.

"Well, I remember bolting off when I heard… someone scream." Lincoln said as he scratched his chin.

"This one, I'm guessing." Welf affirmed, nodding to the unconscious half-breed slumped over Bell's shoulders.

Lincoln looked at her for a moment, not noticing Bell's quizzical expression. She was definitely the same woman that had accosted him twice already. Yet as he stared, he could not fathom exactly why he'd run off like he did.

Racking his memory for any tidbit he could the young man only drew blanks and blurs. He'd been training all day and had made a decent amount of improvement. After a particularly fantastic fight, leaving him beaming with pride, he recalled a piercing scream ringing out. After running off towards it, it was all a blur.

"Is she ok?" Lincoln asked worriedly.

"She's hurt pretty badly, but if we can get her to the clinic soon she should be fine." Bell replied.

Once Lincoln had recovered himself the group set off for the surface with haste. After crossing into the second floor, the young man offered to carry the injured woman for Bell. It had looked as if the burden were getting to the boy.

Bell accepted and with that they made fairly decent time on their return. Once they'd reached the exit of the dungeon the sun had already mostly set. All shared a brief sigh of relief, their eventful day now seemingly behind them.

"We'll take her to the clinic, Welf." Lincoln said with a friendly grin, "You can go and get whatever you need to done."

"Actually, I was sorta hoping you'd feed me again." Welf replied wryly.

The group walked along towards the guild's base of operations just a short way away. Not a leisurely stroll, considering the injured half-breed, but not panicked by any sense. It was just outside the door to Babel Tower's Guild office when the otherwise calm atmosphere of the group was broken. Bell had just reached out to pull the door open when it flung open, knocking him squarely onto his rear.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" came a familiar voice, "Please excuse me, I'm…"

The woman that walked out of the doorway trailed of in her speech, emerald eyes growing wide as saucers. She'd found exactly who she was looking for, albeit a little differently than she'd hoped.

"Lincoln…" she muttered.

The young man looked at her, the Guild advisor Eina Tulle, quizzically. Her face was pale as a sheet of paper, though he initially brushed this off as surprise for having knocked Bell over. Yet there was something more in those trembling green eyes.

"Hey, Eina… You alright?" Lincoln asked, a little worriedly.

"Lincoln…" she mumbled again before getting ahold of herself, "It's your sister, you have to hurry!"

He very nearly dropped the woman he was carrying at those words. With his heart as heavy as stone, Lincoln followed the languid advisor into Babel's interior.


	11. Corrupt Conviction

_Author's Note:_

 _This one has shaped up to be my longest yet, so I apologize for the insanely long read. I would also like to ask whoever reads this to please drop me a comment of any sort and let me know if this turned out as well as I hope it has. PM or review, it doesn't matter so long as I can get plenty of feedback on this one._

 _Finally, let me give warning that, aside from being my longest, this is also likely my most violent chapter yet as well. I took extra care not to be too descriptive, so I hope it won't be too much._

 _Please enjoy my work, everyone, and thank you all for reading._

Chapter 10

Corrupt Conviction

Ψ

Babel Tower, great spire stretching far into the sky at the center of Orario. Serving as both center of business and a guarding cap for the dungeon, this tower was the site of many a terrible event. Though a great beauty erected by the helping hand of Orario's first few visiting Deities, it almost seemed to radiate an air of misery at times. The sandy-pink marble composing the monolith's walls would occasionally seem to lose its luster, as if the tower itself were mourning.

This phenomenon was most often observable in the first throes of Freeze, when the air turned crisp and the temperature dropped. It almost seemed as if the tower were lamenting the decreased length of the sun's radiance upon it. Or perhaps it could be interpreted to be cursing the cold that mocked the sun's efforts, one could not tell. Some even conjecture that the dungeon, over which the tower has stood guard for ages now, is the source of this seeming melancholy.

Whatever the source it is often argued, for this very phenomenon, that Babel Tower is somewhat alive. Even if one cannot manage to wrap their mind around the idea that it seems to have a mood at times, one cannot deny feeling the tower's disposition leech into them upon entering. It almost seems as if it wants its occupants to be empathetic of its current feelings, whatever they may be. Perhaps this would be the reason the tower seemed somewhat sadder than usual this evening.

This very day at the start of Freeze, having mostly drawn to a close as the sun was long set at this point, saw a very depressed seeming Babel Tower. Even in the magnificent luminescence of the many lamps around its courtyard, the towering walls seemed incredibly dull. What usually shimmered a vibrant shade of orange in the flickering magic-lamp light was now a lusterless hull stretching into the night sky.

Even the interior of the monstrous stone monolith was unnaturally quiet as five sets of feet trotted along, clad in shoes that would normally echo obnoxiously. It was almost as if the tower held its breath for the procession, afraid of the news laying further within. Perhaps it was even sorry for being the setting to such nonsense, such tragedy, time and again in one fashion or another.

Whatever the reason, the group's steps were undeniably muted as they pressed further into the depths of the tower, headed for a particular room. A now all too familiar room that every member of the procession was quite fed up with.

Nearly at the back, after many winding turns and twists, there was a long hallway. This hallway stretched an easy thirty or so meters before making an abrupt turn to the right, into another hall set up the same way. All said and done, this little section of Babel's base was essentially a hospital set up as a square of four hallways. Each one had a number of doors on either side, leading into simple white rooms. Drab and unaccommodated they nonetheless served their purpose, which is to say they housed between one a four patients at a time quite comfortably.

Despite the dreary appearance, which oft matched the air of events that transpired within, this place had garnered an affectionate nickname from its patrons. Due mostly to the efforts of the incredibly professional staff, which sought to be as accommodating and efficient as possible. Indeed, this place was referred to mostly as the Adventurer's Rest rather than the Guild Clinic. However, regardless of which of its names you picked, it was still a place often holding an air of sadness.

On the second hallway, just about halfway down the line, there stood one doorway in particular. This hall served as the main area catering to employees of Babel Tower, making this door one that rarely experienced tragedy per se. Today was a different case unfortunately, as a rather hushed scene unfolded inside. A scene already being observed by a pair of sapphire-blue eyes, glowing an almost cyan hue in the flickering green light filling the room.

As the eyes watched, the door of the room was flung open quite viciously. A young man, only just within his prime by his appearance, waltzed in quite like he owned the place. Though she was busy administering a healing spell, the doctor standing at the center of the room averted her attention to send him an irritated glare. His mahogany eyes never met the woman's gaze as he walked briskly to the opposite end of the room.

With as little grace as necessary, taking only the most minimal caution to be gentle, he laid the woman he'd been carrying for nearly the last hour onto an empty gurney. Without sparing so much as a thought, checking only for a moment that she wasn't about to fall off, he waltzed over to the doctor. In three brisk strides he stood just in front of her, glaring intently at the woman.

"What happened?" he asked brusquely.

Sapphire eyes continued their fixation upon a small figure, bathed wholly in a soothing green light. The man's words were clearly filled with seething rage, blanketed expertly to preserve a sense of decency. Yet as he choked out those two simple words the sapphire eyes bounced, the body housing them having jumped at the mere tone of his voice. The question was clearly not directed at her, yet this did nothing to assuage the jolt.

The doctor's eyes, an odd burgundy color in the glow of her healing spell, met those fierce mahogany orbs. His glare was full of both concern and anger, though the doctor could tell it was not directed at her. So with a sigh, the doctor replied as calmly as she could.

"She suffered a pretty bad puncture wound, sir."

Lincoln had been avoiding the sight before him. Perhaps trepidation or perhaps fear, even Lincoln was not entirely sure what held his eyes away. At the doctor's statement however, he could no longer avert his gaze. The man turned to look at the figure laid out on the gurney. Thankfully it was not so bad as he had feared.

Lillian was indeed injured, of this there was no doubt. Her lower body, from the top of her hips down, was covered with a cream-white hospital dress. From her hips up, there was no clothing. Instead the girl was wrapped from her navel to her collarbone in bandages. They were very clearly bloody right around the left side of her navel, though it did not look to be a fresh bleed.

"How did this happen?" Lincoln muttered gruffly.

This time those sapphire eyes watching the girl nearly popped from their nest. The tiny Goddess to which they belonged did her best to jump clear out of her skin right there. It was a tense air hanging around and she was giving herself the worst of it by merit of her own thoughts alone. Just listening to the man's tone was enough to send her nerves into orbit.

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask the Goddess there, Sir." The doctor's response was cold, nearly uncaring.

And with that Hestia nearly fainted. She'd been blaming and deprecating herself about this for nearly two hours now. With Lincoln standing there, his gaze now firmly trained on her, it was only getting worse. Her own eyes were still firmly affixed to Lillian, whose tiny chest was just barely rising and falling under the green glow. Yet still she could feel the brother's eyes, more questioning than angry, on her. She knew it had to be said, so the Goddess swallowed hard and opened her mouth to try and get it out.

"She had an episode…" was all she could squeeze out.

The little Goddess' throat was nearly dry, just as her mouth. Her heart was thumping nearly out of her chest. Sapphire eyes were wet with tears threatening to spill out, the only thing about her that seemed not to be parched. Hestia was just starting to shiver under the weight of her nervousness when a gnarled hand clasped her thin shoulder.

"Goddess, please calm down." Lincoln's voice came unexpectedly warm. Still tinged with something like anger, or perhaps hurt, but very reassuring nonetheless.

Hestia took a deep breath, the gnarled hand clutching her shoulder just tight enough, and bade her nerves to calm. It wasn't a perfect recovery but she did manage to stop shaking like a leaf.

"We were really busy today, there was a sale going on." Hestia continued, trying to keep her thoughts on track, "Lillian has been working so hard, she's really amazing. And I'm sure she hasn't been breaking her promise, at least not in her eyes…"

The Goddess trailed off once more, her eyes spilling over with silent tears as she looked at the injured girl.

"I wasn't paying attention as much as I should have, Lincoln. I was getting jealous of how amazingly she performs at work and all the compliments she gets. I saw her trying to carry a lot so I tried to talk to her, tell her not to push so hard…"

Once more the Goddess was racked with a shiver up her spine and her words were jumbling. A few more slow, calming breaths and she mustered herself to continue.

"She said she was fine but I should've known better. I should've helped her out more. I was wrapped up in my own thoughts while she was being the model employee. Now your sister has a hole in her side because of this inattentive Goddess…"

Had he been there, Bell would surely have spoken up at this. Never would the boy allow anyone, even Hestia herself, to speak so lowly of his Goddess. Yet the boy was not there, having left with Welf and Lily earlier. Since all attention was on the injured girl, he had decided to make sure the half-breed was seen to as well. Without garnering anyone's attention, the boy had carried her to another room.

This being the case, it was Lincoln whose gravelly voice broke the Goddess' self-deprecating lines. His gnarled hand still on her shoulder, the man gave everything he had to crack a warm smile. It was about as fake as it gets, yet still it somewhat served its purpose.

When the man's grip tightened at the effort of the horrendously fake smile, the Goddess' eyes were pulled away from their fixation. She looked from the injured girl to the brother, seeing the horrible falsity of the smile yet still being moved by it. She was a Deity after all and could see clearly the man's intent, despite the swirling mass of emotions within his heart.

"Goddess, I'm not going to blame you for this. I'm sure you're not responsible, I mean you didn't stab her yourself..."

Hestia couldn't manage to react at all to these words, only staring at the man as he prattled on.

"She's always been this way, trying to push beyond her body's limits any way she can. I'm not going to blame either of you for this..."

The man's hand shook just a little with those last few words, his mahogany eyes seeming to tear up as well. Yet this was laid to rest as he removed his hand from her shoulder, clearing his throat and straightening his stance. Once more the Goddess was mystified by the Children of Gekai. Ever changing and ever fascinating they were. Especially ones like this man, whom she'd wholly expected to be beyond furious at her.

"I'll bet she gets it from you…" Hestia murmured, wiping a few remaining tears from her round cheeks.

The man looked confusedly at her, unable to comprehend her meaning.

"She's got something she wants to do, so she just keeps pushing even though she knows her body probably can't handle it." Hestia continued, her mood recovering somewhat, "You two are an amazing pair, you know? You want to protect and provide for her, and I think she wants to try and be reliable like you."

"How's that, exactly?" Lincoln's voice rang oddly empty.

"Well, her brother is such a driven man even though he has limits of his own." Hestia replied, "So I suppose that makes her want to push past her limits as well…"

The two looked back to the girl on the gurney, her breathing beginning to stabilize under the doctor's healing light. Though she was still pale from blood loss, it looked as though she was in no danger of any permanent injury. Still it was a saddening sight, almost as if the world were merely laughing at the young girl's efforts. Such cosmic cruelty moved the sapphire eyes and with that the Goddess had a sudden inspiration.

"Lincoln…" she whispered, not quite ready to voice her idea.

"Yes, Goddess?" he replied, his mind far away.

A few silent moments passed, the green light beginning to flicker out and fade away. While the two stood there watching Lillian the doctor had mostly finished her spell. Having done all she was able the woman ceased her incantation and with it left the light. This was when Hestia dropped her bombshell.

"Should I bless her?" Hestia's question rang hollow as her confidence.

θ

Bell trudged along the white marble hall slowly, his shoulders aching after the eventful day. It certainly didn't help that a full-grown woman was slumped across them. With two doctors leading the way to an empty room the boy pushed himself, bidding his muscles to keep it up just a while longer.

His companions had already departed. Lily was on her way to the inn at which she'd been staying, still trying to lie low from Soma Familia. Welf was off to his little smithy on the outskirts of the city, saying he was going to work on a new piece he'd just gotten an idea for. Eina had also left, stating she had business left to attend to for the Guild.

So here Bell was alone, carrying this heavily injured woman to any empty room for treatment. He wished the doctors would slow their pace down, if only just a little. He may not have been pushing himself against monsters of his strength in the dungeon, but his muscles had still fallen victim to a reverse of an old adage. Quantity was his downfall today, not quality.

"This room will do, young sir." The older doctor said, pointing one of his twisted fingers to the empty room.

Without a word Bell marched in, sweating profusely as his muscles screamed at him with every step. The woman was certainly not light but neither was she particularly heavy. Still it came as a relief to set her down on the gurney, his muscles sighing as much as his lungs. He took a moment, after straightening himself up, to look at her.

She was certainly quite gorgeous, despite being covered in blood and muck. Her skin was a lovely pale hue, accentuating her lips' pinkish color. Even in tatters, the woman's teal robe seemed amazingly beautiful with her figure backing it up.

The boy shook his head suddenly, trying to clear away the blush that was building up around the center of his face.

"Will she be okay?" Bell squeaked embarrassedly.

The male doctor was busy looking her over when he asked this, checking each and every cut that he could find. The female had only just rejoined them in the room. She clutched a number of boxes and bottles in her arms, most likely full of bandages and medicine. Hearing his question, she turned to the boy.

"Oh, I promise you. If anyone can help her it's Mr. Moreau!" she exclaimed confidently.

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm, Elaine, don't get the boy's hopes up." Moreau replied briskly, checking the half-breed's pulse now.

Bell looked at the old man quizzically as he continued to evaluate the woman. Once finished, the old man straightened up, sliding his glasses back up his face, and turned to look at Bell. His face was grave, marred all over with worry and stress wrinkles. His haggard old mouth opened up, showing very few teeth left, to give his prognosis.

"She's been worked over pretty bad, but thanks to you bringing her here she'll live." He spoke flatly, "Elaine and I shall commence a spell to try and close up her most grievous wounds, but beyond that we can only let her body heal itself. Judging by her scars though, I'd say this isn't her first time recovering from a mess like this."

With his little monologue finished the old man turned to his assistant, calling out to her quite loudly. The woman jumped visibly, spinning around to her addressee.

"Elaine, find me some marking coal and another nurse. You're going to help me with the incantation."

The doctor set about quite expertly to stripping the woman down, to which Bell spun around quite quickly. His face lit up a bright red, having just barely turned in time to avoid an eyeful of something most men wouldn't mind gawking at. This he could not do though, images of an angry Goddess flooding his mind.

As the doctor was dressing the half-breed up in hospital attire, Bell decided it was as good a time as any to leave. He began to inch towards the doorway with careful sidesteps. It was just as he was about to bolt out of the room that the old doctor's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Young man, we're going to need a way to get in contact with you." He said flatly, eyes focused on his work.

"Um… why is that, sir?" Bell asked nervously, not entirely wanting an answer.

"We'll need to collect the fees for our service from someone." He replied coldly, "And I know this woman. She's lucky if she has enough to eat on right now. A real man wouldn't just stick her with this bill, you know?"

It didn't escape Bell's comprehension that the doctor's logic was flawed in this. Though he felt it would be the polite thing, to pay for her care like that, Bell was well aware that he didn't exactly have the funds just lying around. However, he could clearly feel the doctor wasn't intent on letting him leave without the requested information. Hanging his head in exasperation, Bell relented.

He gave the old doctor the necessary information to find him when needed. After this he was just about to leave, head still hanging low, when the old man's voice interrupted him yet again.

"You know I was kidding with you, right lad?" he said.

Bell spun around to see the old doctor, who until this point had shown nearly no emotion whatsoever, grinning widely at him. The boy's face wore a clear expression of complete befuddlement.

"We owe her a favor, so there's no debt for this." Moreau spoke at last, "I just thought I should encourage her to thank her saviors for once. She has a little trouble being polite at times…"

With that the old man gave Bell leave to depart, the two exchanging goodbyes before the boy left. Bell contemplated exactly how much Lincoln was getting him into on his way home to the ruined church that night.

Ω

"What…" Lincoln's reply rang hoarsely in his throat.

Perhaps from being around Lillian so much these last few days, Hestia had acquired a certain habit. A habit she was this very moment propagating by fidgeting with the hem of her all-too-small dress. She could feel Lincoln's gaze, now somewhere between disbelieving and furious, burning into her. The nervousness was mounting ever higher.

"Um, I could ble-" was all she managed in reply.

"I heard you, damn it!" Lincoln shouted, losing what remained of his composure.

Hestia jumped hard at this outburst, nearly falling over. Even the doctor, who by this point had all but left, nearly fell over from the man's shout. The room was deathly hushed in its wake, Lincoln's heavy breathing being the most prominent noise. The man stood there, eyes trained on the Goddess. His chest heaved to and fro as his mind raced to put itself together.

"Why would you even suggest that?" his voice came at last, quiet but there all the same.

Hestia, thoroughly shaken by the man's bearing at this moment, turned her gaze onto the girl once more. She watched her soft breathing for a few moments before giving her reply.

"Because a blessing isn't just a ticket to go fight monsters…" the Goddess mumbled shakily.

Lincoln was so full of various thoughts and emotions at this point, his poor brain had all but checked out. He was already exhausted from his earlier outburst in the dungeon. Now with this news and Hestia's offer to top it all off, it was all he could do to keep from fainting. Feverish thoughts seemed liable to be calling for his sudden slumber.

He stared at the Goddess intently, her gaze nervously averted, as his head swam like a fish. His muscles at this point felt more like rubber and clay than sinew and flesh. His joints seemed to have something like crushed glass or bits of rock in them. His very bones felt ready to crack and crumble. With every haggard breath the young man became less and less stable, both physically and mentally.

Thus, with a heavy heart and heavier head, Lincoln decided to encourage his Goddess to expound upon her suggestion. If only so he could put it out of his mind proper.

"What do you think it would do for her then, Goddess?" Lincoln managed to ask, still seething under the fatigue.

Hestia's sapphire eyes shimmered at his words, though the man would never know of this. With a slight glimmer of hope that the situation could be turned around, she scrambled to mount a convincing response. Hestia faltered for but a moment before clearing her throat, putting on an air of maturity as well as attempting to banish her trepidation, and speaking her peace.

"We Gods give our blessings in exchange for being supported by the Children." She began, voice uncharacteristically confident, "Make no mistake, Lincoln. Our blessings, though all the same, are powerful things not exclusively suited for combat. It draws on the experience of the individual to manifest itself, thus it changes effect based on the person's chosen path."

Hestia's eyes, now holding the bearing of a Goddess instead of a scared girl, turned to gaze at Lincoln as she spoke. The feeling was cool almost like a breeze, calming the man's raging thoughts somewhat.

"I feel like I should've kept a closer eye on her, for that I'm sorry." She continued with a pained grimace, "So I'm offering this in hopes she can get stronger in her own way. It seems like what she desires most is not to be a burden…"

Lincoln had to let her words sink in for a while. Though the Goddess' calming gaze had returned a measure of his composure, he was still racked with fatigue from the day's exploits. Both body and mind were utterly exhausted. Because of this, the man truly needed to chew Hestia's words over carefully.

After all, everything he was doing was for his sister's benefit. So he told himself at least. So he believed even, to a degree. Of course any who are in a position of leadership or responsibility know only too well the feeling of self-doubt. The nagging of 'what if' and 'if only'. These were the very feelings running through his head at that moment, as the brother stood by his injured sister and contemplated the Goddess' offer.

"Goddess…" Lincoln mumbled just loud enough to be heard.

Hestia tilted her head quizzically in lieu of a response, drawing a brief sigh from the man. He mustered himself briefly before trying once more to speak his mind.

"Goddess, I need to know one thing before I can give my answer."

Hestia's mouth did not move, her eyes being the only thing indicative of a response. They looked at him, wide as saucers, with an expression as if asking him to continue. With that Lincoln swallowed his pride as the older sibling, admitting to himself he truly had no clue at this point, and gave his condition.

"Swear to me she'll never step one foot in that place…" He managed to squeeze out through stiff lips.

"The dungeon… right?" Hestia asked, her voice still unwaveringly calm despite the circumstances.

"Not one step. Can you promise?" Lincoln replied curtly, lips still barely allowing his speech.

Hestia didn't even have to consider the question, having already decided herself to forbid it if he had accepted. So the Goddess simply smiled instead, her Godly nature completely washing away all her nervousness from earlier. She smiled in true at her child, soon to be only the second newest of her familia, and affirmed his request.

"I give my word, Lincoln." She replied through a wide grin, "We want the same thing here, after all."

Ψ

The dungeon was even colder this morning, amazingly so. Barely an entire week into Freeze, the ninth floor was bitingly cold. A small group trudged along the winding halls, their breath so white it nearly left a fog in their wake. Two men, a boy and a prum girl shuffled across the blueish floor, hands rubbing their shoulders furiously. The warmth was all but gone from the hellish pit at this time of year.

Chestnut eyes glittered with thoughts of a big banquet awaiting them at the end of this day. A promised reward if a certain someone were to pass his test today. Indeed, as her eyes shimmered and mouth watered, the prum was already reaching into her backpack. Tiny hands fished around for two little packages, stinky lumps of rotted meat jiggling inside.

"Now remember, we're only helping if things start to get really bad." Welf spoke, first to break the silence.

"Yeah, today's all about you, bro!" Bell chimed in agreement.

Lincoln barely noticed the boy's hand on his shoulder, encouragingly jostling him. He showed no acknowledgement whatsoever as the two companions gave their words of reassurance and encouragement. Instead, Lincoln's gaze sat firmly fixed on the dark path ahead. Those mahogany orbs seemed to be peering into oblivion as the group approached the stairs leading to floor ten, their true destination for the day.

"Hey, Lincoln!"

This time Welf would not be ignored, grabbing hold of the man's right shoulder and pulling. Without losing his balance, Lincoln spun around and was face to face with the redheaded smith. Worried eyes, the color of lightly polished silver, stared intently at him.

"Your sister's going to be fine, man." He spoke carefully but firmly, "You heard the doctor, right? And she's got a blessing now, too. She'll be ok, so concentrate!"

"Yeah, bro." Bell spoke up, laying a hand reassuringly on Lincoln's left shoulder, "She needs you to keep yourself focused today, that way you don't end up hurt too."

The man couldn't help but crack a smile, his attention recaptured somewhat, to their efforts. It was weak but it was a smile nonetheless. The three exchanged grins before a squeaky little voice interrupted them.

"Hurry up!" the little prum called, some ten paces ahead of the guys, "Lily's cold and wants to get this over with!"

The three laughed heartily at this, further riling Lily's irritation. After this exchange they returned to their march, their steps livened by the bit of lively banter. Lincoln's heart was still heavy and his mind clouded with thoughts of the previous day. However, the encouragement of his fellows had him livened up and ready to face the day.

It only took them around another fifteen minutes to reach their destination. A large room just past the stairwell from floor nine, akin to a wide open savannah, stretched out before them.

It was a very familiar scene to the ruby and chestnut eyes. A scene beckoning memories of betrayal and shame to the prum. Conversely, the boy only recalled the day he felt he'd truly gotten through to his supporter. The two never gave any hint of their shared memories as they marched on into the fog of the large room.

Lincoln was utterly dumbfounded at the sight before him. His eyes wandered all across the surroundings, struck entirely with awe at the monumental size. If there was a ceiling then he certainly could not see it, though there were clearly little specks of sparkling crystal here and there. All along the ground there sat trees of a sort. Scraggly and decrepit things, looking more like twisted and dried corpses than plants of any kind. All across the ground there lay a heavy fog, rendering one's own legs nearly invisible past the knee.

"Ok, this'll do." Bell proclaimed with a sigh, "You ready for this, bro?"

Lincoln broke his gaze away from his surroundings and turned to the boy. Those ruby eyes were so full of excitement it even pumped him up a little. Lincoln gave his response with a little more energy than he'd had all morning.

"Let's do this!" he bellowed, extending his right hand with his thumb pointed to the sky.

Bell turned his gaze to Lily and gave a slight nod. The prum understood immediately, reaching into her gigantic backpack. She only dug around for a few moments before reappearing with the searched for items.

In her tiny hands she held two greasy hemp sacks, a nauseating smell radiating from each. Her own face was already covered to fight the odor. As the smell wafted over the air, masked by the bag but still strong, the other members of the group took notice. Almost in unison, Bell and Welf covered their faces to obscure the smell as best they could. Lincoln did not, however, as his mind was far too preoccupied with other thoughts to even register the malignant aroma.

"Everyone, watch out! Monsters incoming!" Lily shouted at the top of her little lungs, opening and heaving the sacks into the distance.

Upon Impact with the ground, myriad hunks of meat scattered across the dirt. These treated bits of rotting animal flesh were perfect for drawing out today's prey, which happened to be Lincoln's final test. Just as he'd requested, so had Bell and Welf delivered. Two full weeks of training were coming to a head this day as the ground began to rumble.

The rumble was soft at first, much like the slight shake of a large crowd. Noticeable but dismissible for its lack of intensity. Yet this lull did not last as the tremor grew in tempo, eventually becoming nigh unto a small earthquake. Only a few minutes of the rotting meat bait had drawn a tumultuous crowd of horrendous beasts.

Lincoln took a deep breath, closing his eyes and slowly bringing his right hand to his sword. As he exhaled he opened his eyes, taking in the sight stretched out before him. Easily a crowd of ten, the orcs marched eagerly toward the young man readying himself to face them. Large category monsters they were, yet against a level two they should prove no problem whatsoever.

This knowledge in mind and a certain conviction welling up inside him, Lincoln's gaze narrowed as his feet sprang into action.

β

Lillian had come to, not ten minutes after her brother's departure. The night had already passed, her consciousness hanging somewhere just outside a dream throughout. Now daybreak had come and, with the morning's first rays, her brother had departed for a final test within the dungeon's halls.

So she lay there, aware only that her brother was very recently departed. The few beams of sunlight slipping through the cracks of the church's roof never found their way to her pallid face. Instead, the girl's cheeks were greeted with the gripping cold of an early morning at the start of Freeze. Thus her button nose was the bright red of a ripened apple, her breath easily visible with each exhale, as she lay in the bed under the church.

The girl's thoughts drifted to and fro under the early morning haze, wandering around as usual for the freshly woken. At first she thought of her brother, who was often on her mind. She imagined how angry or ashamed he might be to learn of her carelessness. She imagined how he might scold her for breaking her promise. She even imagined that he might forbid her from returning to her job, a thought that nearly wrestled tears from her freshly woken eyes.

"Good morning, Lil." Came a voice, calm and sweet.

The girl drew her emerald eyes all across the room, searching for the voice's source. Being so freshly awoken, her ears couldn't quite home in on it. At last though, she finally settled her gaze onto a small figure beside her. Voluptuous one might say, proportioned in a very womanly manner, were it not for the deceivingly childlike face. There sat Hestia, smiling from ear to ear at the injured girl laying in her bed.

"I'll bet you're thirsty, eh?" she said, holding out a wooden cup to the girl.

Lillian stared for a moment, her mind still slothful this soon after waking, before trying to sit up and take the glass. All of her senses were immediately pushed into overdrive the moment she began to tighten her abdominal muscles. An incredible pain, divine in its intensity, tore through the girl's tiny frame. All thoughts left her mind as she yelled.

"Gah!" the two cried, almost in unison.

One would not have to spare much thought to understand why the girl had screamed, her stomach still grievously injured from just the previous night. However, the Goddess' scream was not so obvious as to its reason. Hestia had almost completely forgotten about Lillian's injury, from a combination of air-headedness and drinking the previous night. Therefore, she had not contemplated the possible outcomes of offering the cup of water without propping the girl up. Such as the incredible likelihood that sitting up, or any exertion of the stomach for that matter, might cause Lillian significant pain.

At this unanticipated eruption from the girl, Hestia was caught entirely off guard. It was by nothing less than a miracle that she did not drop the cup of water on poor Lillian's head. Instead, having barely managed to keep hold of the cup, Hestia stared with wide eyes at the girl for a few moments. When her mind finally came back to her Hestia was quick to act.

"Lillian, I'm so sorry!" she cried out, "I didn't even think about your injury…"

The Goddess sat the cup down and leaned toward the girl. Still gripping her side in agony, Lillian didn't notice as the Goddess pulled the thick covers back. The cold air of the church cellar, which is what the little room amounted to, was quick to grab her attention.

Hestia looked over the girl's pale stomach carefully, making sure the wound had not torn back open due to her carelessness. The Goddess gave a satisfied harrumph upon confirming the bandages were all fine. Yet just to make sure she placed her tiny right hand against the wound, being extra cautious not to push too hard. It was warm but not too much so, telling her it was indeed alright thus far.

"Thank goodness…" Hestia sighed, "Here, let me help you up this time. Just relax yourself and let me lift you, ok?"

The Goddess did exactly such, placing her right arm behind Lillian's thin back. With very little force, for very little was needed against the girl's slight frame, she hefted her up to a sitting position. Gracefully quick, Hestia placed two pillows just behind Lillian to keep the girl supported. Once this was done she gave one more satisfied harrumph and grabbed hold of the wooden cup once more.

"Here, drink up!" Hestia exclaimed with a wide smile, holding the cup out to the girl.

Lillian couldn't help but to giggle lightly at the funny little Goddess, seemingly so proud over such a small victory. With a silent nod of thanks, Lillian took the cup and drank it down. She had not realized exactly how parched she was, having to drink slowly so her throat wouldn't close up on her.

Once finished the girl handed the glass back, sighing with satisfaction from the quenching refreshment.

"How are you feeling?" Hestia's voice was slightly colder this time, perhaps just a little ashamed.

Lillian's emeralds locked with Hestia's sapphires, the two staring each other down for quite a few moments. The Goddess' gaze was full of worry and concern, the girl's full of shame and defeat. It was Lillian's weak soprano that was first to voice what their eyes were saying.

"It wasn't your fault, Goddess. I should've been more careful…" the girl murmured abashedly.

"Lil…"

Hestia's response was more along the lines of a voiced disbelief. Their acquaintanceship was only into about its third week, but already the Goddess had, for one reason or another, grown quite fond of her. Not nearly so much as Bell, for none could take that boy's place in the Divine's heart. Yet more so than just friendly or sisterly. Indeed, very much on the end of motherly Hestia's feelings towards this young girl sat.

And it hurt to hear her talk like this, so ready to shoulder all the burden. The girl had indeed been a little reckless, this much Hestia would not argue. Yet the fact remained that, no matter how mature or how driven, Lillian was still but a child. A child that Hestia felt the guilt for having not watched over more closely.

"Lil, don't blame yourself for all of it." Hestia began, her warm tone returning, "You were just giving your best, I know. You were pushing a little too much, but it was my place to slow you down. I'm sorry I didn't act quicker."

Lillian just stared at the Goddess, mouth somewhat ajar. She wanted to mount a retort, to the effect that it was her responsibility to keep her word, but simply could not. Something nearly seemed to hold her vocal cords shut as she sat there, staring into those sapphires.

"Welcome to the familia, Lil." Hestia at last broke the silent stare down, a smile across her round face.

The girl's eyes went wide to this statement, something between shock and confusion coloring her expression. Lillian tilted her head slightly, a few strands of off-blonde locks drifting lazily across her face.

She had assumed that since her brother was conscripted she herself was already a member. This only seemed like the proper logic to follow. Therefore, it struck her as odd that Hestia would be saying this right now. Not to mention the tone, almost ashamed or embarrassed. Lillian was seriously confused now and her face showed it, to which Hestia had to giggle just a tad. The girl looked so comical with her vapid expression at that moment.

"What?" Lillian managed to inquire.

"Your brother and I talked, Lil." Hestia began, to which Lillian's face immediately drained of color.

Seeing this Hestia stopped in mid-thought, her mouth open like she was going to speak. Yet it was only silent as she watched Lillian's face empty of its color.

"Are you ok, Lil?" Hestia asked apprehensively.

The girl only stared at her in response, further worrying the Goddess. The two sat there for a few minutes like this. Lillian pale as a sheet of paper, looking as if she would faint any moment now. Hestia watching, hesitant to speak or act for fear of further upsetting the girl. The air became tense in this absence of speech until Hestia, having had enough, spoke up at last.

"We talked about you and the way you're always pu-" Hestia began to explicate her earlier statement, interrupted suddenly by an explosion from Lillian.

"I'm sorry!" the girl yelled frantically, "I won't be careless! I won't push! I won't do anything else dangerous at all!"

Hestia watched dumbfounded as Lillian blathered on like so, thoroughly shaken from who knows what. At last the frantic apologies and promises gave way to crying and violent shivering. The girl was beginning to become incomprehensible when Hestia, being afraid she'd work herself into another fit, attempted to stop her.

In the middle of her ranting, Lillian was stopped abruptly by the pair of thin arms wrapping around her. The Goddess had leaned forward and pulled the nearly panicking girl into a tight embrace. This did not stop her entirely but it did accomplish its purpose. Though still quivering slightly, having seriously worked herself up, the girl was no longer riding on a total wave of panic.

Now seriously worried for the girl, Hestia slowly stroked the top of her head. It was quite the relief as this began to work, clearly relaxing Lillian and allowing whatever it was gripping her to subside. The crying and shivering eventually gave way to mere sniffles.

"What's gotten into you, Lil?" Hestia whispered, not intending the girl to hear her.

"I'm sorry…" Lillian replied listlessly.

"It's nothing to be sorry over, you know?" Hestia cooed, trying to keep her calm, "If you'd let me explain, you'd see there's nothing to be freaking out over."

Lillian sniffled a few times more, her face still buried against the Goddess' bosom. Her eyes were still wet with tears, red from crying, when she lifted her gaze to meet Hestia's.

"I'm sorry, Goddess…" she croaked once more.

Hestia was more than a little irritated that the girl insisted on repeatedly apologizing but decided to hide this. It simply wouldn't do to have her becoming upset again. Besides that, there was indeed something important Hestia needed to tell the girl. This she could not accomplish if Lillian were a blubbering mess in her arms once more.

"Lil, you have my blessing too now." Hestia spoke softly, deciding to just lay it out rather than give a lengthy explanation.

Lillian's reddened eyes opened as far as they could manage, puffy and irritated from the tears. Her face read first confusion, followed by disbelief and then a total astonishment. The girl clearly wanted to ask for clarification, yet could not.

"That's what we talked about, Lil." Hestia answered her unasked question, patting the girl's head, "Your brother and I, we discussed it. Whether or not I should bless you too. It took some convincing, but he finally gave me the go ahead."

Lillian stared for a few moments more, her jaw slack and ajar, before managing to fuddle a response. The girl's voice was almost deathly quiet as she spoke, still colored by her astonishment.

"Why would he be ok with that?" Lillian posed with eyes nearly fit to pop out.

Her question was not at all what Hestia had expected.

Λ

A shining entity, more light and presence than actual existence, paced around a great monolithic throne. Its strides were nigh unto frantic for who knows what reason, its gaze fixed firmly on a shimmering mire at the foot of the throne.

As it paced to and fro around the throne, the sea of writhing grey mass stretched in all directions seemed to reflect the Deity's apprehension. Far off from the throne, away from where it might bother its master, the unborn creation took shape and meaning. Great and endless storms raged in the far reaches of the void, tremendous hurricanes and tsunamis smashing into gigantic typhoons and tornados. Just as the Deity's emotions were in turmoil, so too was the unborn creation all around it.

The being shone with a luminescence fit to shame every star in existence. So bright was its countenance that even the storms in the distance were lit as with daylight. The robe of the Deity, though a shabby ivory color and surely old as time, was fully consumed with its illumination. The face of the Divine, though always bright enough to blind, was nearly beyond existence as it shimmered gloriously in time with a certain window.

Or perhaps more so a pool, that is the mire of fate giving off countless colors into the blindingly bright fray above it. The Divine's face watched the events in the pool eagerly, almost ready to consume itself with excitement. A certain fate playing out and taking shape before it was at this point infinitely more interesting than all the rest of creation.

Indeed, so interesting even that, under the glory and luster of its radiance, there sat at this very moment a smile upon the Divine's face. Nay, a great grin more honest and true than any universal law. A wide swath of pride and wonder etched into the Deity's visage by merit of its intrigue alone. Omniscient though the being was, it for some reason could not fathom what the pool did not show it. Therefore there was the interest, the excitement that could not be abated.

So the Divine paced and watched, infinitely intrigued by a certain series of events beginning to unfurl. Had one been there to hear it, the echo of something akin to a raucous laughter could be hearkened throughout the void.

Ω

"My god, you did it!"

"Mister Lincoln, that was amazing!"

"Bro, you're insane!"

Lincoln's head jostled around loosely as his companions, surrounding him on all sides, celebrated with great jubilee. It was hard-earned and hard-won, this attested to by the many cuts and bruises across the man's body. However, his companions were in the right to be so exorbitant with their elation over his victory. In fact, it wouldn't have been unexpected or unwelcome for Lincoln himself to be doing some gloating.

Few and far between were those that could say with any honesty that they had faced and bested thirty orcs at once. The evidence to this ever so bold a claim would have to be magnitudes greater in order to sway any who heard such. And evidence to this there was, three witnesses who'd seen it all as well as thirty magic-stones scattered across the ground.

The fight had begun well enough after Lily had released the bait. Indeed, just as expected a crowd of ten orcs was drawn in at first. This crowd was easily defeated by the man, however, so it seemed that his test was to be considered passed. He had shown exemplary skill and deftness with dispatching the critters after all. Yet, it was upon the sheathing of his blade when things took a more complicated turn.

For just as Lincoln's blade was housed in its scabbard once more, there came a rumbling most dreadful. A great roaring of the very ground as heavy footsteps approached from off in the distance. To this had the entire party given their attention, turning and peering into the foggy depths of the dungeon.

It was only a few minutes past when the source of the rumbling, which had at this point grown loud, revealed itself. Just when it seemed the ground might open up, so violent was the reverberating, there passed a group of adventurers. They ran as if maddened, fleeing from some unimaginably vicious pursuer. This might have been the end of the entire calamity were it not for one unfortunate factor.

In the seeming nothingness that the rumbling originally brought, Lily had decided to set about collecting Lincoln's hard-earned drops. Therefore, the prum was not there to bear witness to the fleeing cavalcade of adventurers. It was because of this that the situation very nearly turned dire.

Bell and company were just about to set off with the fleeing group when the boy noticed a head missing. It was only just from the corner of his left ruby, this being the prum's usual position when they were running together. At that moment the boy had spun around, Lincoln and Welf shortly following suit, to behold the source of the tremors.

Unnoticed to the prum, there was a baby dragon bearing down on her position. One could only guess how this came about, being that the creature's steps shook the entire floor. Yet all the same, she merely kept collecting the stones laying across the floor.

The events that followed soon after this were, to say the least, a blur of carnage and glory. The boy had been the first to engage the dragon, taking its attention away from the tiny girl. Lincoln and Welf had been close behind, joining the fray almost immediately after Bell. With this setup of combatants, one would've expected the melee to end rather succinctly.

Yet this would not be the case as, upon wounding the dragon, Lily's voice interrupted the concentration of her companions. Of course, her interruption may very well have been the deciding factor of their survival. It was only because of her calling out that any noticed the large group of monsters, positioning themselves to join the baby dragon in battle.

This is where Lincoln's true amazement had come into play. Leaving his two companions to deal with the lizard, with nary a word as he dashed away, the young man had stepped in to ensure Lily's survival. The horde had been heading toward her, which had given way to her crying out, and he had stepped in to stop this.

With slashes and swings, pirouettes and flips, the man made easy work of around ten more orcs before breaking up the group. After Lily had escaped in the hubbub, Lincoln let himself completely loose. He cut down another ten orcs, most of what remained of the group, along with around fifteen or so imps.

By the time Bell and Welf had finished their project, that is to say the baby dragon, Lincoln had all but disposed of the rest of the attackers. It was then that the jubilee began, everyone quite elated to be alive after such a hiccup in the plans. The celebration was intense yet short-lived, for they knew that they would need to return to the surface soon.

The battle that felt as if it were only minutes had in actuality raged for nearly four hours. The sun was finishing its goodbyes for the day and retreating behind the mountains at this point. So with that knowledge, and the excitement of a well-earned meal awaiting them, the group readied themselves and set off for the surface.

Of course, this would be no simple task.

ζ

Freya's silver eyes glimmered beautifully in the reflection of the mirror before her. No ordinary mirror, for this was a gateway the Gods used to watch things of interest, it gave off its own light which only served to amplify the Goddess' glamour. As the eyes watched, colored with the mirror's glow, they seemed to radiate a curiosity and an interest so intense, it could be considered beautiful in its own right.

This was how she was, the Goddess of Beauty. Everything about her and every action from her was leaden with glory and glamour. This was Freya's sphere, or at least the lighter side of it.

There was also a darker side to the Goddess, a side that many knew but few comprehended. For once her interest was piqued, her lovely eyes trained on a topic, Freya became more along the lines of a Goddess of Obsession. This was the very reason she watched the mirror so intently, now the third time she'd opened it in just the last month. The Goddess' ample bosom concealed a racing heart, titillated with the images of a certain white head of hair.

Yet this heart was also somewhat irritated as its owner watched the mirror. For beside the prized boy, with a soul colorless as pellucid glass, there was an anomaly. Something along the lines of a minor imperfection in a work of art. This irritated the Goddess, as it obscured her view of the colorless soul that so held her affection. Yet what was more, this soul was also strange.

Something she had only noticed in passing at first, deigning it not to even be worthy of her acknowledgement, was now a glaring detriment. The soul alongside her precious obsession, the only other of the four worth noting, was nearly not there. It had such a muted presence that, at times, Freya could barely even perceive it. This only served to irritate the Beauty to such an extent she had once more done something rash.

Something she could easily regret if it ever came to light…

Ϫ

"Lily is so starved, she could even eat one of those orcs!" the little prum exclaimed happily, rubbing her grumbling belly.

"Yeah, I think we're all hungry after that commotion…" Welf observed, hands behind his head as he casually marched along.

"I think that was a little more than a commotion!" Bell nearly squealed in reply, a little heartbroken that his carefully planned test had gone so awry.

The entire group broke into a hearty laughter as the boy hung his head comically. Camaraderie was in plentiful supply in the wake of the great showdown, now just a few minutes past. The four-man party was entirely a bustle as they proceeded at a decent pace through floor nine. They were at this very moment just entering one of the floor's larger rooms.

"Well, it wasn't much more than that…" Welf responded, eyeing Lily impishly, "Until the shrimp went and got distracted on us!"

"Ah!" Lily yelled in response, tossing a half-eaten potato snack at the sneering redhead.

He dodged it easily, laughing raucously at the fuming prum. The two had at this point become nearly familiar with their bantering. Therefore, it came as a monumental surprise when Welf's foot was planted squarely on Lily's chest. With a massive kick, the tiny prum was thrown across the room from Welf.

With nary a word, the man then leapt back and narrowly dodged the earthshattering swing of a massive hammer. He took not even a moment to consider, wresting his sword from its carrier on his back. Welf then took up his stance, a simple form with which he'd trained countless hours, and stared the hulking attacker down.

His assailant was clad from head to toe in pitch-black steel plate, looking like a moving shadow more so than a person. He stood an easy two heads taller than the smith, a monstrous height considering Welf's own gifted frame. His shoulders were equally massive in comparison, stretching perhaps as wide as a tower-shield's height. The man was quite the monster indeed, and sadly there would be no help for the smith.

Welf spared only the briefest moment, upon hearing a commotion to his right, to steal a glance toward his other comrades. Only Bell was visible to his brief glance, the boy already in mid-melee with an incredibly adroit and dexterous opponent. With no other choice, Welf locked his gaze down on the man before him.

Yet his opponent did not return the gesture, instead turning toward the prum lying motionless on the ground off to Welf's left. He began to take a lumbering step toward the girl but was stopped midstride.

"Touch her and you'll die slowly!" Welf shouted with all the ferocity he could muster.

He bit his lip hard, trying to hide the fear welling up in his very bones as he stared the behemoth down. The man had indeed stopped at this threat, though he did not immediately turn to look at Welf again. Instead he stood there, lowering his foot back to the ground slowly, and watched the unconscious prum some four meters away. It almost looked as if he were a child deciding which toy to play with first.

"Got guts, eh kid?" the massive frame rumbled, breaking the awkward standoff.

Welf's concentration was only briefly derailed, yet this proved to be more than enough opportunity for his assailant. In the instant that the smith had lowered his guard, the massive pile of flesh and black steel lunged like some sort of demonic beast.

He moved with all the fluidity of water, all the speed of a loosed arrow, as he sailed through the short distance. In only the blink of an eye his gigantic hammer was headed for the smith's head, leaving the man little time to react.

"Gah!" the behemoth yelled as he slammed his hammer home.

The report was immediate, a reckoning of a clap resounding throughout the room violently. Bits of the surrounding wall even fell away with the force of the impact. This brought no surprise to the fact that a hole was left behind where the hammer had landed. Yet, there was a surprise indeed when the dust cleared somewhat.

As the monstrous man was sneering with pride, he nearly missed the long blade careening toward his outstretched arms. He released his grip upon the mallet only just in time, throwing his massive weight back to avoid the crashing cleaver. With absolutely no grace whatsoever, the mountain of metal and fat rolled very nearly like a barrel.

Welf cursed under his breath when he saw the behemoth dodge his surprise attack, feeling his blade scream as it bit into the rocky dungeon floor. Yet the irritation was softened somewhat as he watched the giant tumble backwards. Unable to contain the force of his weight, having been caught flatfooted by the counter, the man was now locked into a backward roll. Welf breathed a cautious sigh of relief, sure the man would be much less threat without his weapon.

He watched him roll further away for only a moment before charging towards him to re-engage.

Lincoln had not been so lucky as his companions, still measurably less experienced at combat than his fellows. Therefore, it was of little surprise when, after his comrades had been engaged in combat, the young man was also attacked. It was even less surprising when he was taken almost entirely off-guard by his opponents.

Which is to say, the three, clad in black like the others, who engaged him all at one time from three different directions.

The young man took a knee to his right side first, followed quickly by a punch to the throat and a kick to the back. This sudden jostling sent him for quite the loop, gravity seemingly unsure which way to throw him. It finally settled on a forward tumble, head over heels, after the kick landed squarely between his scapula.

He tumbled across the ground with absolutely no sense of grace for a good ten meters, coming at last to rest upon hitting a stalagmite. The formation stood a good fourteen meters tall, reaching nearly to the ceiling, before crumbling upon Lincoln's impact. It came crashing down on top of him quite neatly, eliciting satisfied smiles from his three attackers.

The collapse stirred up quite a bit of dust and nicely concealed the rubble beneath. Therefore, none of the approaching assailants noticed a thing until it was far too late.

Indeed, they approached with quite the air of assured victory. They may have been ordered not to kill, an order toward which their adherence was at this moment questionable, but this did not mean they couldn't bring him to death's door. Beholding the mess of dust and collapsed rock, they were quite sure this was what they had accomplished at the least. Surely no one could have that much rock fall atop them and be capable of fighting any longer.

"Good kick, Tal!" one of the attackers exclaimed.

He reached a hand out to clap against his partner's, celebrating their victory, when he was taken off balance by a lack of contact. They'd had their hands on a proper path, so the boy was slightly surprised when he seemingly missed.

"Tal, don't pull that crap on me!" he called angrily at his partner.

This exclamation was met with a blank stare, followed by a scream shortly thereafter.

"What are you screaming at, ya git?!" the boy blustered, raising his left hand to slap his forehead in exasperation.

Yet, he only succeeded in putting a nice splotch of his own blood across his black visor, obscuring his vision. The boy clucked his tongue angrily and tried to remove the mask with the very same hand, noticing after a few moments that there was no appendage upon the end of his arm any longer. His heart sank quite thoroughly as he beheld the bleeding stump, only about half of his forearm left. A part of him actually admired the cut, knowing it must've been faster than lightning and sharper than wit to happen without being felt.

"heh… heh heh… heh…" he chuckled nervously, pulling his visor off with his remaining hand.

A puff of blonde hair, cut short around pointy ears, came out from under the helmet. Bright orange eyes followed this, peering tepidly throughout his surroundings. The boy, a young elf, dropped his helmet and drew his blade with his right hand. He held the short-sword at the ready in a reverse position, awaiting the man's next attack.

Lincoln stood some two, perhaps even three, meters to the left of the two. He was mostly shrouded in the shadow of another stalagmite, his presence hidden nigh completely. He watched the two, one bleeding badly and one scared thoroughly out of her wits, as a heat pulsed through him. Every muscle, every bone, every fiber that made up the young man was alight. His very being sparked to life with an eerie feeling, somewhere between pleasure and fury, as his muscles flexed endlessly under his ruined garment.

After the impact his armor had come loose of its straps, falling uselessly to the ground where he'd been slumped. It was then that thoughts began to course through his mind, much the same as when he'd had his first taste of the dungeon. The thought of death, imminently close. The thought of his sister, left devoid of her only remaining family in this unfamiliar place. The thought of dying and breaking his promise, perhaps chief among these regrets and fears.

This was when the spark had first formed in his gut. A deep flame bidding him to move, waking his mind fully and sending his muscles into unnatural frenzy. He could suddenly hear everything so clearly, droplets of water hitting a pool from across the room sounding as if right beside his ear. Therefore, he easily heard and pinpointed the confident steps of two of his attackers. He could even smell their bravado coming off of them.

He heard them, but did not quite understand them. It almost seemed as if they were barking or something, but this did not matter. No sooner than their attention had turned away from his dusty resting place, Lincoln sprang into action like a flash of lightning. So quickly in fact, the boy he struck first didn't even notice his hand stolen from him. It was over in a moment, the trickle of blood on Lincoln's blade being the only immediate result of his attack.

So now he stood here, hidden partially by the shadow of a stalagmite, and watched two of his attackers nervously await his next move. The man's mind was not altogether with him per se, yet he retained much more of himself this time versus the last few. He could tell he was in a frenzy and was quite aware of himself, but it was still beyond his grasp to exert full control. Of course, this did nothing to dull the enhancement of his senses and capability to comprehend them.

Almost as if someone were standing beside him, whispering in a hushed voice, Lincoln felt the presence of the third. It was approaching him from behind, carefully masking its steps all the while. He did nothing at first, wanting instead to see if this one was meaning to be sneaky or was simply scared. It did not take long to find out though.

Just as the figure crossed over the boundary of Lincoln's comfortable space, it lunged forward like quicksilver. A knife, perhaps some thirty centimeters in length, was thrust forward like an arrow as the assailant flew. Sadly, he was no match for Lincoln as this very moment, the young man dodging him with almost no effort.

The attacker flew forward, out of the shadow and into his de-armed comrade. The two met with a grunt, both tumbling across the ground from the impact. The third, now entirely insensible from fright, collapsed to her knees.

Lincoln stepped slowly from the shadows, his sweaty skin glistening in the slight glow of the dungeon. With all the calm of a butcher approaching a pile of meat, he slowly brought his sword into the air as he stepped ever closer. The young woman, utterly frozen in fear, only watched as he approached her.

"Tal!" came a frantic cry.

Lincoln was caught somewhat off-guard by this, especially so by the sudden impact to his side. Due to his current state he was not sent flying. Yet, it was still enough impact to jar the man from his approach and buy his target time to flee. When her eyes fell on the comrade that had intervened, knocking their crazed victim away from her, she regained just enough of herself. The woman stood and deftly crossed to her two partners, shakily readying herself for the imminent combat.

Lincoln had recovered his stance by the time she'd stood. As she was running to her comrades, the man was already approaching with his blade at the ready. It was shaping up to be quite the melee after all.

Bell stepped and twirled, deftly avoiding the pinkish blade repeatedly seeking his flesh. The boy's ruby eyes flashed under the glimmer of the blade as it sailed over his head. He'd ducked just in time, setting himself in the perfect spot to counterattack.

Alas, it was too late when he launched his own jet-black blade forward. The black-clad figure twisted out of the way, easily avoiding Bell's knife. In return he had his own ready to strike once more, coming around from his pirouette. Bell watched the arc it cut through the air, tracing it to where it was most likely to fall, and pulled himself sideways. With all the deftness the Kenki had imparted upon him in their lessons, the boy shifted and shot his blade forward for a bite.

The two blades, jet-black and cherry blossom, bit into each other hard. Sparks flew in all directions as the two blades slid along each other, lighting up the room around the combatants. However, this small lightshow would utterly pale in comparison to what followed.

Just as the two loosed their blades of each other, recoiling and preparing for another bout, the whitehaired boy thrust his left hand forward. He took a deep breath of air as quickly as he could, gritting his teeth as he concentrated to aim. When he had the black-clad assailant in view between his fingers, the boy threw his mouth open and yelled with all his might.

"Firebolt!"

The air crackled and sizzled almost instantly, growing bright and hot under the pressure of his spell. No incantation whatsoever, the moment he loosed those words there came a spilling of power from the boy's fingertips. Something crossed between lightning and fire, like an angry bolt from a volcanic storm, sprung forth into the dungeon's darkness. It sailed in irregular shapes through the air, carving glorious luminescence the entire way to its impact.

The moment it made contact with the rock wall there was a monumental explosion. It rocked the dungeon hard as rock was instantly melted and in some places vaporized altogether. Flaming chunks of stone and dirt scattered in all directions as the room was lit ablaze by the boy's spell. It would have been a glorious hit, had he actually landed it of course.

To the boy's chagrin, there stood the black-clad attacker. Pinkish blade shining faintly in the flickering flames all around him, the assailant stood unscathed. He'd clearly dodged the bolt with the deftness of being previously informed, knowing to watch for the boy's trick. He smiled sinisterly for but a moment before twisting his blade around.

Now gripping the blade backwards, the assailant charged his victim ferociously. Bell readied himself to reenter the fray, holding his own blade firm to reciprocate blows once more.

Two black-clad figures, both male and around the same build, charged Lincoln from both sides. They held their blades ready for business, showing no sign of holding back. The man only stood there, calm and collect, as they made their approach.

The woman, Tal by the way she was addressed, only sat upon the ground and watched. She wasn't one of her groups strongest but had begged to go on this mission all the same. She wanted to prove herself, yet once faced with an opponent of this caliber all seemed lost to her. Therefore, being frozen with fear and disbelief, she sat on the ground like a terrified schoolgirl instead of a proper warrior.

Her companions ran toward their target like demons, their speed unbelievable. Only a few meters separated them from him, yet they crossed it in barely time enough to blink. From there the sounds and sights of battle kicked up once more.

The two boys crashed upon the man like a tsunami, their blades dancing like leaves in the wind. One, two then three, strike after strike was thrown at the man's vital areas, hoping for a decisive blow to land. To their chagrin this did not happen. Instead, every slash and stab was effortlessly avoided by the man. Sometimes with but a simple leaning of his neck, sometimes with a full twist of his body. Yet every time, he moved just enough to render the attacks utterly useless.

After perhaps thirty seconds of this deadly dance, the man launched his own counter. As the two boys were recoiling to line up another strike, he slammed himself down hard onto the ground. With unmatchable speed he lifted his legs into the air and began to spin, turning a full three times before opening his legs fully. The boys had no time whatsoever to react, the man's feet contacting both their guts simultaneously and sending them flying.

The boy missing his left hand made contact first, slamming hard into the side of one of his compatriots. His lithe frame hit the black-steel hulk and sent both careening into a nearby wall. It was by nothing less than a miracle that the man's hammer, which he'd released upon impact, did not smash into them.

The second boy flew hard into Bell's assailant, completely unnoticed to boot. Both slender individuals were set sailing through the air, tracing a nice arc along the dungeon's expanse. When they finally hit the ground it did not stop their motion. Instead, the two rolled another six or so meters before coming to a rest.

Bell and Welf stood motionless, their gazes taking little time to find Lincoln's manic form. He had by this time stood to his feet once more, seemingly staring into nothingness. The young man held an altogether unfamiliar aura about him, so powerful that his companions could actually feel it. It was very unsettling to the two.

As they watched him, Lincoln slowly turned his head. His gaze sought the two opponents he'd just scattered, coming to rest on one for only a moment before seeking the other. Once he'd confirmed where he'd sent them off to, the man began to lumber slowly toward the collapsed Tal. She still sat frozen in front of him only a few meters away.

The young elf boy, orange eyes shut tightly with pain, rubbed his head as he sat up. He could feel his partner's plate steel underneath him, most likely immobilized by the impact. He clucked his tongue angrily, thinking just how embarrassing it would be to report defeat at the hands of one man.

A sudden scream pulled him from his mulling.

"No! Stay back!" it was shrill and high pitched, clearly female.

The young elf's eyes shot open instantly. He leapt to his feet, ignoring all the ringing alarms of pain resounding through his body. His orange eyes instantly fell upon her, his partner and longtime friend. Tal was in the same spot he'd left her, collapsed and trembling uselessly with fear. He didn't think at all, instead bolting straight for the man approaching her. The boy only felt the slightest sting when he reached the man, his arms and legs becoming heavy very quickly.

The girl's scream only barely registered to his ears as he tasted an odd metallic flavor bubbling up from his throat. The elf looked down slightly, his eyes coming to rest on a wide blade that disappeared into the center of his chest. His eyes watered up as he became incredibly cold, trying and failing to gasp in surprise.

"Touché'…" he muttered, still staring at the blade.

With that the boy took his last breath, expiring gracelessly on the end of Lincoln's blade.

"We're retreating!" came a fierce bellow, piercing the silence that had fallen across the battlefield.

The lumbering hulk turned his massive frame, clanking like a sack full of nails, and began running into the darkness. He didn't need to spare a look back to know his comrades would be close behind him, which they were shortly.

Not a moment after he'd called the order, the lithe assailant that had been engaging Bell sheathed his pinkish blade. He took off like a flash of lightning, grabbing the nearly unconscious Tal and beating a hasty retreat. His other comrade was hot on his tail, the two following after the beastly man in the plate steel. The battle was over and they knew it, one of their compatriots and a dear friend lying dead as a result.

This would be incredibly embarrassing to report, but worse than that it was a failure that had cost them a party member. Even the black-steel hulk had trouble holding back the tears as the four made for the surface.

Ѱ

The trip from the dungeon this day was somber to say the least. All four members of the Hestia Party walked in utter silence as they left for their various homes. It had nearly been an understood point, having no need of being voiced, that no one was in the mood for a big dinner this evening. Therefore, with only goodbyes and pleasantries, the four had said their peace and parted ways for the night.

Only Bell and Lincoln continued to walk together on their way home. That is, together in the sense that they were headed in the same direction. The boy was keeping a good three meters between himself and his companion the entire way. Once they came across a narrow alleyway, a necessary part of the route to the church, he even went so far as to stop while Lincoln passed through first.

This was about the last straw for the young man, as he stopped dead in his tracks after exiting the short alley. Bell nearly froze when the man's boots clapped on the ground. The poor boy wanted to slink away when Lincoln spun around, his mahogany gaze falling on him.

"You just gonna cower around me now, huh?!" Lincoln nearly yelled.

Bell stood there silently for a moment, considering the question like it was his own. In a sense it was…

"You know…" he muttered quietly, "You killed someone today… Another person, like us…"

The boy dropped his gaze to the ground as he uttered the words. His ruby eyes were wet with confusion and regret as he recalled what he'd seen the man do. Only a few hours past, the memory was still upsetting.

"That wasn't a monster, Lincoln… That was-"

"It may as well have been one, Bell!" Lincoln roared furiously.

A few passing animal-people jumped with fright at the man's shout, turning to briskly cross to the other side of the street. Bell was also caught off guard by this, himself nearly falling backwards.

"You don't know what they might've done to us!" Lincoln continued, though not as loudly, "What if Lily had gotten killed? Or Welf?! What if we'd all been killed, leaving the Goddess and my sister alone?!"

Bell watched as the man's eyes began to stream with tears, most likely more of anger than sorrow. He wanted to say something reassuring, to calm his companion down, but no words came to the boy's mind. So instead he lowered his gaze to the ground once more, sitting indecisively as his partner pulled himself together.

"Let's just get home…" Lincoln grumbled weakly, his voice like gravel.

The boy stood at this and they did exactly that. The pair walked the rest of the way home, perhaps more upset than they were before their little confrontation. It had done nothing to assuage the boy's trepidation of the man, still lagging behind him the whole way home.

Upon reaching the church the two were greeted with happy faces. Hestia and Lillian, the second of which most likely should not have been up and walking, were upon them almost instantly.

Bell and Lincoln had not come within even five meters of the church's front door when it flew wide open. The two girls came barreling out of it excitedly, questions abounding left and right as they greeted the returning adventurers. This happy atmosphere lasted the entire way into the church, the Goddess and sister oblivious to the tense air between the two.

It was only upon entering the little room under the church that the Goddess noticed something wasn't right.

"Bell, why are you keeping your distance from Lincoln?" she asked curiously.

The boy did not immediately respond, watching the man in question with vaguely fearful eyes instead. Lincoln had indeed heard her, just as Bell feared, but gave no hint to that effect. Instead the man just followed his sister into the kitchen listlessly as the girl prattled on about something or another. Bell felt the Goddess tug on his sleeve as he watched, pulling his gaze back to her.

"What is it, Bell?!" she asked, now a little more exasperated than curious. Perhaps just a tad worried as well.

"It's nothing, Goddess. Honest!" Bell replied quickly, trying to keep his voice low.

Hestia was not buying it at all. The Goddess' sapphires narrowed as she stared the boy down, her expression clearly stating that she was calling out his malarkey.

"Well…" Bell sighed, on the verge of giving in to Hestia's glare.

"It's because I killed somebody, Goddess." Lincoln's voice rang hollowly through the room.

Bell visibly jumped at this, spinning around to look the man's way. Lincoln didn't meet his eyes, instead moving to plop himself down on one of the chairs gracelessly. He took a few sips of the tea he was carrying, trying desperately to keep his own nerves calm.

In all truth the man was afire with worry over what would be happening next. He knew this was no light thing, to have taken a human life, despite the circumstances. Thus he did his best to remain calm as he awaited whomever would speak first in response to his confession.

"Were you protecting my Bell, Lincoln?" Hestia's voice rang, first to pierce the uncomfortable silence.

Lincoln swallowed the sip of tea in his mouth, savoring the soothing taste for but a moment. With false calm he sat his tea on the table in front him, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"I wasn't thinking of that, Goddess." He spoke bluntly, "I was more concerned with not letting our attackers hurt _any_ of us. That includes Bell."

"Attackers?" Hestia replied.

"Yes, Goddess." This time Bell spoke up, "There were five in all and they ganged up on Lincoln, three to one."

The Goddess looked at the man intently as she walked around the chair, coming to stand directly in front of him. He sat with his arms obstinately folded across his chest. Hestia decided then to use her Godly eyes to peer upon his soul, wondering exactly what was going through the man's heart. As she did she gasped in a slight shock.

"Where is it…" Hestia muttered in disbelief.

"What?" Lincoln asked, looking up at his Goddess.

Hestia recovered herself quickly, waving her hands in front of her as if to dispel the statement.

"Lincoln, you were acting in the right." She spoke, returning to the more pressing subject, "You were outnumbered and under threat of death, by the sound of it. There's nothing to be ashamed of if you took a life to defend others."

Bell watched his Goddess, who was usually so immature and airheaded, with puerile awe. He didn't exactly disagree with her sentiment, yet neither could he just accept what had happened. He was certain that it would take a while to treat Lincoln the way he had been once more.

"Well, that nasty stuff aside…" Hestia spoke up again, "Let's get you two a status update, huh?"

The two adventurers weren't particularly hungry so they agreed to the update with little hesitation. Bell even considered that a little good news might set their minds at ease somewhat, perhaps even returning their appetite. So this they did.

Bell was the first, as usual, to receive his. The boy slid his shirt off, revealing a well-toned back with hieroglyphs tattooed all across. He laid down on the one bed in the room, stretching across it facedown. Hestia followed shortly after, taking her usual seat on the boy's rear. With that, the Goddess expertly went through her ritual to see the boy's progress and change his status accordingly.

The growth was monumental as always, irritating the little Goddess at the thought of his continued fixation on a certain swordswoman. Yet she brushed this aside as she put the finishing touches on his status.

"Bell…" Hestia whispered his name, just loud enough for the boy to hear.

"Yes, Goddess?"

"A skill…"

The boy nearly threw her off as he bucked up at this revelation. His eyes narrowed and he broke into an almost immediate sweat. He only sat quietly for a moment, as he replayed the words in his head, before asking his Goddess.

"How? What?" he choked out.

The Goddess, having recovered herself, had already set about to transcribing the skill and its description to paper. With a grin she handed the scrawled note to him, hopping off the boy's posterior after he took it. Bell was in utter shock as he read and reread the note, utterly dumbfounded at his insanely quick growth. He'd wanted a skill for a long time but had not expected to get one, certainly not so soon either.

"Argonaut, the want to be a hero." Hestia chuckled, "A little old for dreams of being a hero, aren't we?"

Bell was so elated he all but ignored the Goddess' teasing, this upsetting Hestia only just a tad. With a cluck of her tongue the diminutive Goddess motioned for Lincoln to take Bell's place on the bed.

This he did with nary a word, removing his own shirt and laying facedown like the boy had. The Goddess sat on his rear as well, noting briefly how much less muscular the man's back was. She set about to her task quickly, reading, adjusting and transcribing the man's status. It was just after she'd copied down the last few numbers and looked over his status once more that the Goddess paused.

Her mouth dropped wide open and her hands became numb as she stared. Lincoln's attention was called to this when he felt the pointy end of the Goddess' pencil dig into his back. He bucked slightly, cursing under his breath, and called out to her.

"What's wrong, Goddess?" he asked.

"Another… skill…" Hestia whispered incredulously.

"Is that good?" Lincoln replied, not knowing much about adventuring and blessings even still.

Hestia had to collect herself, clearing her throat loudly and shaking her head a few times. She snatched up her pencil after this little display, quickly copying down the skill's details before finishing up. With that, the Goddess hopped off the man's rear and stood, spinning around to face him. She held the paper out to him as he sat up.

Lincoln took it and, unconsciously, began to read the status sheet out loud. He mumbled too quietly to be heard until he'd made his way down to the skills section. There, the man's voice became louder with his own disbelief.

"Skill, Corrupt Conviction…" he read, looking to the Goddess as if asking her opinion.

Hestia nodded once and waved her hands, as if motioning for him to continue.

"Negativity grants prowess in battle. The stronger the feelings the stronger the effect. Results in unconsciousness if overused…"

"Never heard of that one, either." Hestia proclaimed to herself.


	12. To the Fifteenth

Chapter 11

To the Fifteenth

Ω

In the dungeon, far beneath the clamor and bustle of Orario. Yet another cold day as a band of four sets foot towards the depths of the middle floors for the first time. Yet another cold day that seems to eat straight into the bones. Even the hushed whisper of their footsteps seems further dulled by the biting airs of Freeze. Even the faint whoosh of red cloaks, salamander wool to be precise, seems almost entirely deafened.

The three are thankful to say the least. Thankful for the wool protecting them from the cold all around. Thankful for the comrades on either end, walking solemnly into the depths of hell. Thankful that the events of just a week ago are behind them. Most of all, thankful to be alive and walking around after that horrid ambush.

Yet the gratitude comes somewhat colored with a pang of guilt, or perhaps trepid surety. For you see, this is the first real experience any in this group has had with the death of a sentient being up close and personal. Needless to say, it is no small thing to have weigh on one's shoulders. Due to this, beyond the hushing of Freeze's cold, their procession is colored further with an air of discomfort.

"Well, here's the stairs." Lily states flatly, her breath white in the cold air.

A boy most dear to her, white haired and ruby eyed, steps up to her left side with glimmering eyes. Unsettled he is, but excited as well.

"That's to the eleventh floor, right Lily?" he speaks coolly.

"Right, Mister Bell." The prum agrees, "The eleventh floor is just beyond here. This'll be the first time for all of us, won't it?"

The girl's nervousness is palpable, her voice tremoring slightly with her words. The chestnut eyes under her like-colored hair glimmer just as the boy's, though perhaps a little more nervously. She's surrounded by good and capable adventurers, not to mention friends, yet still her heart pounds as she imagines their ultimate destination.

Today's goal is the thirteenth floor, first of the middle floors and a stepping stone to becoming true adventurers.

"Three weeks, hard to believe it's gone by so fast." Says a young man, oldest of the group.

He stands on the right side of the prum, mahogany eyes peering on into the dark depths beyond the odd staircase. Odd in the sense that it seems to be merely a formation of the dungeon itself. This even though it takes little imagination to see stairs from the natural occurrence.

His hand rests weakly over top of a simple blade, elegantly effective despite its normalcy. A tremor fires through the man's hand as it grips the pommel, shaking ever so slightly.

"Is Mister Lincoln sure he's ready?" the girl asks, her chestnut eyes peering up at the man.

"Oh, I'm good Lily."

Bell eyes the man from across the prum, his glance nervous and perhaps a tad mistrustful. What he'd seen the man do, in the rage of battle notwithstanding, was upsetting to say the least. Even now, an entire week after the fact, his view of the man remains almost wholly unchanged. The boy's heart is filled now with the grim knowledge of exactly what proper fighting entails: Win or lose, live or die.

"You good, Bell?" Lincoln asks coldly, feeling the boy's gaze.

"Yeah… I'm good."

The reply is curt and none too friendly, though it is not rude either.

"Well, let's go over it one more time." Says the prum as she removes her backpack, "Lily wants to be sure everyone, especially Mister Welf, understands the goal today."

"Oh, listen to the shrimp!" the redhead sneers in reply, "So full of herself just 'cause she gets to make the plans!"

The two exchange an annoyed glance, colored fantastically with the undertones of friendly bonds. Despite the near constant bickering and picking, the two actually get along quite well at this point. All the same, the girl is still quite capable and willing to retort to the smith's prodding. Yet, with today's mood, she refrains after a simple glare.

"We'll be going straight for floor thirteen, avoiding any unneeded fighting, and hunting there today."

The girl takes a knife from its holster on the back of her hip, gripping the blade so as not to dull it. With the handle she begins to draw a rudimentary map in the dirt, indicating their optimal route as she goes.

"These rooms should give us the best route without a lot of fighting, though the distance is a little longer. Though, we could save ourselves some walking if we went through here."

She speaks methodically as she indicates a side path, drawing a dotted line through it instead of the previous solid.

"There's more monsters in this route though so I don't suggest it. The decision is Mister Bell's though, so Lily will lead through whichever he decides."

Lily leans back, sheathing the knife, and looks to the party's leader. Perhaps her most respected friend at this point the, in her eyes, esteemed Mister Bell. The boy is far too deep in thought, his hand rubbing his hairless chin, to notice the leering chestnut orbs. He seems about ready to burn out with thought before finally giving a nearly comical 'aha'.

"We've done well with fighting, especially now that we're four strong." He says confidently, "We should take the quicker path so we can hunt longer on the thirteenth."

Lily has to try quite hard to hide her not so slight disappointment in the boy. She does admire him quite fondly, yet she is still at times moved by his naiveté. His answer is predictable and expectedly none too thought out. She sighs, ready and willing to follow the boy regardless of his answers.

"Well then, that about settles it." She says, standing and shouldering her all too large backpack once more.

The group sets off into the dungeon's depths, walking side by side down those oddly natural stairs, toward destiny.

β

"Hey Lil, I need a hand with this!" Hestia calls out.

The tiny Goddess is at present busy wrestling with a fairly large armoire, perhaps one of the nicest decorations in the little room under the church. She and Lillian have spent the better portion of this morning, having been awoken by the departure of the menfolk, cleaning up their little home. It was highly unlike the little Goddess to be so proactive with upkeep. Perhaps her little helper was rubbing off on her after all.

No sooner had the Goddess called than the pitter patter of tiny feet resounded from the kitchen. The lively young face of her newest child beamed giddily as the girl trotted into the room.

"How can I help, Goddess?" she asked with a wide grin.

"If we're gonna dust then I want to dust proper!" the Goddess grunts, pushing at the standing closet, "Help me move this behemoth so I can get behind it."

Lillian steps to the other side of the furnishing, evening out the Goddess' force with her grip. The two manage to inch the thing easily enough, pushing it just far enough from the wall to clean behind. With hardly a moment's hesitation she sets to work, commenting to Lillian as she dusts the bricks.

"You've certainly recovered nicely, haven't you?" Hestia says as she goes about her chore.

Lillian takes a moment, really thinking about her words, before giving her thanks. The Goddess clucks her tongue audibly.

"You know I'm not complimenting you so much as just observing, right?"

"Hm, well…" Lillian mutters abashedly, "I guess I really did recover quickly…"

"Yeah, quick doesn't quite cover it. You had a spear in your gut, Lil. You're lucky ya walked away from that one."

Lillian turned her eyes to the ground, blushing as she recalled the silliness which led to said piercing. Hestia, rear in the air as she dusted around the bottom of the wall, simply continued to prattle on.

"Well, anyways, I was talking more about your strength." She continued, "Maybe I should've worded myself better, but I've noticed you're getting pretty strong. Think it's the blessing?"

At this Lillian had to actually ponder. She really hadn't noticed it in all honesty, though now that she was thinking about it things certainly seemed easier. Moving something the size and weight of the armoire would have normally required her brother's assistance. Now though, it seemed next to natural for her to manage such a thing. It hadn't even registered that this was a deviation from the norm.

"It's been showing up at work too." Hestia continued, still fiddling around behind the armoire, "You don't seem to geh-"

Her words stopped suddenly, as did her movements, when the Goddess' eyes fell upon something. After a few moments of this, curiosity got the better of Lillian as the girl peered around the furnishing. It wasn't obvious why at first but the little Goddess had indeed stopped all motion, still as a statue as she stared at something. The girl leaned in a little closer to see what it was.

"Gah!" Hestia screamed.

The little Goddess jolted upright suddenly, knocking Lillian hard in the chin and sending them both careening into the nearby bed. Lillian was quite shocked at first, the vague coppery taste of blood coloring her tongue. Hestia's babbling broke her out of her mulling.

"There's no way… Ju- just old myths…" The Goddess whispered, shivering hard.

Lillian was about to ask her what the problem was when the sound of a cup shattering caught both their ears. Hestia screamed again, her sapphire eyes searching the room for the source of the sound. It didn't take long to find the source as the entire church began to shake.

"What's happening?" Lillian's voice came, alarmed to no small degree.

The shaking intensified as the words left the girl's mouth, pieces of the wall coming loose as the building shuddered. Lillian acted quickly, standing to her feet and grabbing hold of the Goddess. The girl's muscles strained as she pulled her by the arm, nearly dragging her up the stairs. No sooner had they left the little room, bursting into the church proper like madwomen, did the quaking stop.

The two looked around dumbfounded for only a moment when a voice called out to them.

"Hello?" it was soft and slightly sweet, like a fine tea, "Is there a boy with white hair that lives here?"

Both girl and Goddess, thoroughly shaken and befuddled, looked all around the church proper. No sign of the quake was there, not a single piece of the broken roof or ruined floor disturbed.

Ϫ

Lincoln's eyes were wide as they could possibly be, looking fit to pop from their sockets at any moment. His weren't the only ones either. The party stood entirely flabbergasted, watching an absolutely unbelievable sight before them. It was both horrid and somehow beautiful, like a great fire come to consume all in its wake.

They had only just made it to the thirteenth floor, hunting for about an hour, when they decided to break for their meal. Only a few minutes into the break there had come a terrible rumbling, seeming to encompass the entire dungeon in its grip. Stalactites shook loose from the ceiling, plummeting toward the group below. Bits of the walls cracked and fell free, shattering into myriad pieces on the floor.

It was an almost immediate panic as the four scrambled to find cover, doing their best not to be separated in the process. This they had managed, leaving their meal behind in the rubble, once fleeing under a sturdy archway. There they hid until the tremoring passed.

Yet this was not the least of their troubles. For no sooner had the dust cleared than a grisly sight greeted them.

Directly underneath where they'd just been eating there was a veritable spider web of cracks disseminating through the ground. They widened and widened as the party watched, eventually giving way and falling apart into the crevices beneath. All four stared in disbelief, having never witnessed something quite like this before. Yet it was what came next that nearly stilled their hearts.

Almost in unison, like some macabre chorus of horror, somewhere around forty large hands popped from the broken ground. They flailed around for but a moment before, one by one, grabbing hold of nearby chunks of earth. Holds in hand, the critters pulled themselves forth from the ground revealing themselves entirely.

"There's… no way…" Bell and Lily stuttered in unison.

Welf turned and emptied what little was in his stomach upon the floor, stricken beyond words with fear and surprise. Yet he could not help but to turn around and continue watching, ghoulish fascination gripping him. Lincoln was equally dumbstruck, knowing full well what he was watching at this very moment.

There from the cracks were the heads of bulls coming forth, pulling themselves out with the arms of men. As they emerged the bodies of men were as well revealed, muscular and battle-hardened looking forms. It was a crowd of Minotaur being birthed all at once, four floors higher than they've ever been seen to emerge.

The entire party was paralyzed with fear and awe.

Ѱ

"So, you didn't feel anything? Seriously?" Hestia questioned their guest for the umpteenth time.

The woman's golden eyes looked up at the Goddess with no attempt to hide their irritation. A cup of tea sat perilously close to the woman's mouth, brought just close enough to sip before being placed back upon the table. The lovely young half-breed crossed one leg over the other, turning her gaze away obstinately as the Goddess continued to stare.

"No, I didn't feel anything." She replied curtly.

"Well… that is funny."

Yet, the Goddess did not laugh. Her mind was still on the armoire, or more precisely what lay behind it. But, sensing the woman before her was clearly here for a reason, Hestia put these thoughts from her mind. She cleared her throat before addressing the woman once more.

"So, um…"

"Annabelle." The woman interrupted.

"Huh?" Hestia's eyes asked more than her voice.

"My name is Annabelle." She said once more, tone bordering on rude, "I came here to thank the white-headed kid for saving my butt in the dungeon. So, is he here?"

Annabelle's bearing showed her agitation clearly, though Hestia was sure she could sense just a little more. The Goddess stretched her mind to try and figure why this seemed familiar. All at once, as if a magic-lamp coming to life in her head, it came to her.

"Oh!" Hestia exclaimed, "You're that girl Lincoln saved last week!"

Annabelle's ears folded at the mention of the name, or perhaps at being referred to as a girl. Whether one or the other, or both, the half-breed became very tense all of a sudden. She turned her golden eyes, glaring harshly from under milky-coffee brown hair, to the Goddess.

"Who?" just the one word, a simple question. Venom-filled it would seem.

"He's one of my children, one I acquired very recently." Hestia replied, "He's an odd one, but seems kind enough."

Lillian chuckled at the Goddess' succinct explanation of her brother, further arousing the half-breed's ire it would seem. Annabelle shot her a glare as well before addressing the Goddess again.

"Let me guess." She spat more than said, "Brown hair, brown eyes, kinda muscular kinda not? Hangs around whitey and some little prum snot?"

Hestia was, none too surprisingly, becoming a little irritated herself. The woman's attitude was more than a little irksome and not seeming as though it would improve. With a now twitching eyebrow, the little Goddess did her best to stay polite as she responded.

"We call her Lily, but yeah… You more or less hit the nail on the head." She said with a sigh.

"Well, I'll not be thanking him." Annabelle said flatly, seeming as if she were going to stand, "So if you don't mind, just tell the whitehaired kid I said thanks."

And stand she did, starting to walk for the door when she felt a tug at her robe. Today's choice was a very pure white, nearly hiding the pale little hand gripping it. The half-breed turned to see the girl, face twisted angrily, staring her dead in the eye.

"That's my brother you're talking about like a piece of garbage, you know?" Lillian's voice was none too happy.

"Yeah?" Annabelle replied with a sneer, "Tell him to be a better liar next time you see him."

With that the rude half-breed yanked her robe-tail from the girl's grip. Huffing angrily, she stomped up the stairs and slammed the door behind her as she left. Hestia and Lillian both sat there, dumbfounded at the woman's boorishness.

"Wow, your brother knows how to pick 'em." Hestia muttered.

"Not you too!"

The two shared a brief giggle, still irked by their recently departed guest. It wouldn't last long, however, as Lillian's attention turned back to earlier. She looked Hestia in the eye, her seriousness silencing the Goddess' laughter.

"What did you see back there, Goddess?" she asked solemnly.

"Sorry about hitting your lip, Lil. Why don't I go get something to treat that, hm?" Hestia replied.

The Goddess stood and left for the kitchen, feeling Lillian's gaze the entire way. She took only a moment to find some bandages and ointment, noting briefly the lack of any earthquake damage. Supplies in hand the Goddess returned.

"That doesn't answer my question, Goddess." Lillian chimed in, trying to hide her exasperation.

Hestia sighed as she sat down beside the girl, preparing the ointment to apply to her busted lip. Her movements were stilted and nervous as she cleaned the wound. She had hoped to avoid the subject, yet it seemed this would not be the case. So the Goddess relented.

"Do you know the legend of the Flaming Sword in the Garden?" Hestia asked absently.

Lillian stiffened up at this, knowing full well at first mention what the Goddess was talking about. The image of the old painting from her great-grandfather's study came immediately to her mind. This along with a replay of how she'd found the box in the wall, careening herself and Lincoln into this crazy place.

"Yeah… why?" she asked nervously.

"There's an old symbol associated with that myth, Lil." Hestia replied, finishing the application, "A cross with a piece of fabric, like a scarf or something, draped across its limbs."

The Goddess stood and left to return the medical baubles to their proper place. Lillian's heart began to thump like crazy in her chest as she pondered what the Goddess was going on about. She would have her answer soon too, as the Goddess returned to the living area.

"It's so old, even we Gods aren't sure where it came from." She sighed as she sat down, "Somehow it just kinda… popped up, millennia ago. A tale of a paradise cut off from mankind after the first sin, or something like that."

Her eyes seemed to drift away as the Goddess stared at the wall. She sighed deeply once more before continuing.

"There haven't been any churches associated with that myth in all of recorded history. That includes as long as we Gods can remember."

The Goddess turned her gaze, coming to rest upon the armoire, and spoke further.

"What I saw, right before that earthquake that apparently didn't happen, was that symbol. It really scares me too, cause like I said… there's never been a single church that had anything to do with it."

Lillian's heart was pounding in her ears now, obscuring Hestia's voice significantly as she continued to talk. The girl was even beginning to see double, so bad was her heart racing. Hestia only noticed when the girl keeled over, out like a light.

Strange dreams haunted Lillian as she slept for the next few hours.

Ϫ

The group ran like inmates escaped from an asylum, barely keeping together as they crossed through room after room. It was certainly not the optimal solution, as they were only headed further from safety, but it was their only option. Behind them was a pursuit the likes of which only the heartiest warrior would try to withstand in combat.

A veritable cavalcade of bullheaded man-beasts chased after the four, numbering somewhere around twenty or so. Their hooved feet carved craters with every thunderous step, frightening all monsters they passed by into the shadows. Their snouts puffed hot breath, white in the cold, as they feverishly pursued the tiny party.

Bell was thoroughly out of his gourd with fear, muscles only moving on the basest of instinct at this point. Lincoln was no better, probably worse if one were to honestly observe his frantic sprinting. Welf was probably the best off of the group, wits about him enough that he'd grabbed Liliruka so she wouldn't fall behind.

They ran and ran, turning corner after corner only to run some more. It seemed no matter what there was no end in sight to their pursuit. No corner to duck behind, no convenient spot to bottleneck their pursuers. It even seemed the Minotaur were faster than they should be, thereby leaving the group unable to put any real distance between them.

Oh, how they all wished the stairs up had not been crushed when the critters were born. Now there was naught to do but continue running and hope for some sort of miracle.

"Bell!" Welf shouted between gasps of air, "We're gonna hafta try and thin them out!"

"That's not possible!" the boy shouted in reply.

"Well, we gotta think of something! We're gonna tire out before they do!"

Lincoln was keeping up with his partners, thinking precisely the same thoughts as Welf. Already his legs and lungs were screaming for an end to the frantic dash, kept moving only by the fear welling up in him. He knew they couldn't last forever like this as it seemed the Minotaur were no worse for the wear.

"Hey, Lily has an idea!" the prum shouted, her voice obscured as she bounced on Welf's shoulder.

"Spit it out then, shrimp!" the redhead cried.

The prum wasn't irritated at this reply in the slightest, far too preoccupied with their pursuers in her field of view. Instead, she began to rummage through her sack as they went. It was taking everything she had to hold onto it, so the girl simply prayed as she rummaged around.

"Any day now, tiny!" Welf screamed loudly, smacking Lily's bottom to grab her attention.

On a normal day she might have been tempted to use the found item on the smith, pissed beyond reckoning at having her posterior treated so. Yet she withheld herself expertly, instead turning and looking ahead. With fantastic vision, for which the prums were well known to a degree, the girl spotted a wonderful spot.

Just ahead by about a hundred meters or so, at the end of a small opening just beyond the current hallway. It was an archway like countless others, though this one looked distinctly rickety, as if worn over the years. Lily knew this wasn't the case, being that the dungeon righted itself regularly, but it would work all the same.

"Mister Welf, lag behind the others just a little!" she shouted, trying desperately to be heard, "I'm going to collapse that arch ahead of us!"

"You what?!" he cried out in reply, only to be ignored.

Sensing the prum would not be responding, Welf swallowed his trepidation and decided to trust his teammate. He slowed his pace oh so slightly, lagging only a few paces behind the other two. They were closing in on the archway, now only around twenty meters from it. Lily knew it was now or never so she said a little prayer, hoping Hestia might hear it somehow.

With that the prum bit hard onto the top of a round little ceramic thing in her hand. She squeezed her mouth as tightly as she could, wincing as a few teeth cracked under the strain. Ten meters away now, she pulled the object hard as she continued to bite down. One of her teeth cracked apart, coming loose of her mouth, but she managed to pop the top free of the object. It shimmered to life in her hand, glowing fiercely as she readied herself.

She knew there would only be one shot, no more opportunities after that. Welf's feet passed the threshold just as Lily's tiny hand released the object it clutched so tightly moments earlier. Not a bomb per se, but a condensed bit of magic-stone dust aligned to elemental fire. It hit the ground, cracking slightly but thankfully holding together.

"Welf, dive!" Lily shouted at the top of her little lungs, blood spraying from her mouth.

The smith obeyed without thinking, throwing the girl from his shoulder and leaping for the dirt. His face ate the floor not a few seconds before the little ceramic orb detonated, an incredible wall of flame showering the group. It was only by the grace of their salamander-wool cloaks that they were preserved, everyone still suffering some singed hair from the searing gust.

The Minotaur in pursuit were cut off immediately, the little orb having shaken the rickety arch loose. It cracked and fell to uncountable pieces, collapsing the entrance to the hallway entirely. They were safe for the moment, their pursuit temporarily halted.

"Is everyone ok?!" Bell shouted, unable to keep his voice down.

One by one the group sounded off, everyone somehow still alive. All were gasping for air as if close to drowning, but still somewhat put together and uninjured. Save for Lily and her missing tooth, that is.

"Damn, shrimp. What was that?" Welf asked between sighs.

"Lily's secret, Mister Welf. Lily will tell you if we get outta here, ok?" the prum replied weakly.

"We need a plan. Now." Lincoln gave his two cents, huffing miserably.

"Well, we need to keep moving but…"

Lily trailed off without finishing her thought. It was clear there was no going back, being that the stairs up had collapsed when the Minotaur were birthed. The group looked worriedly at each other, tired and battered from the frantic chase.

"Is there another way back up?" Bell asked hopefully.

"No, Mister Bell. This floor only has one entrance, unfortunately." The prum replied.

"We'll have to wait til the dungeon rights itself then…"

"That could be days." Welf interjected, gloom setting in his voice.

The group murmured and clamored nervously for a while, toying slightly with the idea of laying an ambush for the Minotaur. This idea was quickly dismissed as suicide, however, being that the horde outnumbered them so heavily. This was when Lily remembered something she'd learned about the middle floors.

"There is the break-floor…" she said hesitantly.

"The what?" Lincoln voiced his lack of knowledge.

"Oh Gods, you don't mean…" Welf sounded as if he might faint.

"The eighteenth."

The prum replied very matter-of-factly, despite almost no confidence coloring her heart. She knew what she was about to suggest could end up just as suicidal as trying to face the Minotaur horde.

"If we keep going down, we'll hit the floor without monsters." She continued weakly, "There's even a small town there, so we could rest and hire some help for getting back out. But it would mean to keep going despite being unprepared…"

Λ

The smile, glorious as countless suns, pierced the gray mass surrounding it. Light came to the void to sound the Divine's beaming intrigue, its attention thoroughly fixated on a little group of four. It watched their desperate pursuit, on the edge of its throne with excitement the entire time. Having forgone its omniscience, it was an entire roll of the dice to the Being what lay ahead for them. As the luminescence showed, it was enjoying every moment of it.

Now, the mouth moves and voice fills the void. For the first time in countless eons, the Divine truly speaks.

" _Come, show me. Fall and stand back up or fall and lie forever. Fall and show me your choice, Children…"_

On Gekai, the world of mortals, two living things hear the Divine's words as though a distant howl. Faint, oh so faint, just on the edge of audible. Lincoln and Hestia, two beings that couldn't be more different, just barely catch the faintest whisper from this supreme Divinity. Both look toward the sky, more of reflex than anything else, as the words tickle their ears like a playful sea-breeze.

The Being smiles even wider as it watches this. It's throne room begins to be consumed entirely by the light. Yet all at once, as if a curtain falling on a closing act, the light snaps out of existence entirely. The throne room is dark once more as a terrible shaking begins to grip it.

The unborn creation ripples like water, violent tremors under the force of the new disturbance. The Being only continues watching its chosen diversion, speaking once more as it gazes.

" _Let_ Him _decide, then."_

As the Being watches, the void is filled with a terrible roar.

Ϫ

The group pressed ever further, pushing their aching and tired bodies to keep moving. Step by painful step they trudged further and further into the dungeon's depths. Rock floors mercilessly fought back, giving no quarter to the haggard group's feet. Fatigue mixed with fear, a potent cocktail, lapped at their drive to keep going with every stride.

Far behind them, distant though still terrifying, there came the roars of their terrible pursuers. The rumbling of the dungeon floor gave heed that the creatures were still hot on their trail. This only served to unsettle further the already wearied party.

"How far did you say, shrimp?" Welf tried to sound playful, failing miserably.

The poor smith was covered in scratches and bruising splotches from his earlier dive. He had to brace himself against his sword to keep moving at this point. With every stab of his faithful blade into the rock below, Welf cringed in pain. More for his blade than himself, mind you.

Lily, the shrimp to which the smith referred, trudged at the lead of the group. She held a motty rag of a map, copied from memory after years of browsing the various map-store's stocks. The girl suckled absentmindedly at her wounded mouth as she did her best to concentrate on guiding the group. Her sense of direction, honed by years of evading pursuers of a different kind, was impeccable. Even still, on an unfamiliar floor, it took all she had to keep from getting them lost.

"We're not too far from floor fourteen's stairs." She replied at last, ignoring Welf's jest.

"First hurdle, huh?" Bell spoke up.

The four were indeed closing in on the staircase to floor fourteen, perhaps only a few hundred meters off now. It was only the first hurdle on their way to the rest-floor, yet every inch between them and the roars following behind was a victory. Even now, as they trudged ever onward, the mad beating of their pursuer's hooves could be heard in the darkness behind them. This served as more than enough encouragement to swallow their trepidation and push onward.

"We're pretty lucky though, huh?" Lincoln's comment was more than a little shocking.

"Exactly how does luck fit into any of this?" Welf grumbled in reply.

"Thus far? Nothing besides those Minotaur have come after us."

Lincoln's logic was indeed solid. They had been cut off from the surface by the group of man beasts, but those were the only monsters to cross them since. As they ventured ever further, none others crossed paths with the worn party.

"Maybe it'll hold out for us after all…" Bell muttered under his breath.

By all accounts the boy was likely daft for saying such at a time like this. For no sooner had the words left his mouth, just as they crossed into the last hallway between them and floor fourteen's stairs, did another fantastic rumbling come. The dungeon shuddered all around them, more stalactites coming free of the ceiling above. The walls heaved and buckled, large chunks coming free and falling to the floor.

All eyes flitted about, terrified as they sought some meaning in this newest travesty. Yet none would be found, only the sight of the dungeon seemingly falling apart around them. As they looked around the rumbling only grew fiercer, the ground shaking like leaves in a gale.

"What is going on?!" Lily screamed, her shrill voice barely piercing the quake.

None could answer as the rumble grew ever more violent, eventually knocking the group off their feet. They fell each to the ground, powerless under the force of the quake, and stared helplessly at their surroundings. Then, the worst imaginable happened.

The ground beneath them began to split, an enormous crack tearing its way across the stone floor. It took only a few moments more for the crack to open up fully, swallowing the party in its gaping maw.

β

Lillian awoke to the faint smell of tea and a voluptuous form sitting beside her. Her emerald eyes fluttered open lazily, taking in the sight of a familiar little room. She was in the little nook under the church, laying in the Goddess' cozy bed. Said Goddess was directly beside her, sitting in a rickety wooden chair with a cup in her hands.

"Hello there, sleepy." Hestia mumbled before taking a sip of her tea, "Got some for you too, if ya want."

Lillian followed the Goddess' pointing finger, her gaze coming to rest on a simple earthenware mug. It sat on a little nightstand, still steaming with the freshly prepared brew. As the scent further filled the girl's lungs, she sat herself up on weak limbs.

"What happened?" she asked weakly, head spinning.

The Goddess smirked at this, something funny having occurred to her. She watched her newest child for a moment, sitting up about as gracefully as a newborn fawn trying to stand.

"You passed out again, Lil." Her reply was calm, soothing even.

The girl looked back to her Goddess, eyes wide with fear. She was worried another attack had taken hold of her, this usually being the cause of her fainting spells. Hestia could clearly see this written on her face.

"Don't worry, you just fainted. No seizures this time, Lil." The Goddess assured her.

This calmed her somewhat, though not for long. A sudden flow of memory, recollection of her recent nightmare, flooded Lillian's mind. She jolted forward and grabbed her head, hiding herself between her knees.

"What is it?!" Hestia yelled in surprise.

"They're in trouble, Goddess…" Lillian whispered faintly, not altogether aware of herself.

"What?"

Hestia was now more than a little worried for the girl, sitting there like some horrid event had just gripped her. Lillian began to rock back and forth slightly as she started to recount her dream.

"I saw them, in a huge room." She said, a frantic air gripping her, "They're in a huge room, the five of them. A hare, a puppy, an ox, a jackal and a fiery bird. I've never seen anything like it…"

Hestia's gaze turned curious, though still worried, as the girl seemed to be spouting nonsense. Yet she knew better than to interrupt, dreams being far outside her sphere of influence. She needed to hear all of this before saying anything herself.

"They're in a room, soaked in blood. It's red and dark and hollow. Four of them are afraid. Then a bull came and consumed them…"

The girl stopped for a moment, sharply inhaling as if surprised. What came next shook Hestia to her core.

"Goddess, the bird wants to place the hare in its nest…" Lillian muttered, emerald eyes locked with Hestia's sapphires.

It would never be known to the little Goddess why, but at that very moment a shiver ran through her entire being. Her very soul quaked with dread at Lillian's words, tearing out the calming atmosphere she had tried set. Her mouth ran dry despite the tea she'd just sipped.

"It's ok, Lil." Hestia declared, trying her best to soothe the girl, "That sounds like it was a really scary dream, but that's just it. It was a dream…"

The Goddess trailed off with these words, not quite believing them herself.

Ϫ

Bell's ruby eyes were the first to open, a pounding ache already settling into his head. It took only a moment for alarm to fill his mind though. When it did his eyes opened fully, searching frantically around him.

Wherever he was it was an utter mess. Rock and rubble littered the thin hallway, nearly blocking any means of further passage. This was the least of his concerns however as the boy leapt to his feet, eyes searching hysterically for his comrades. It was some small relief as he spotted them one by one.

Lily lay perhaps four meters ahead of him, laying atop a few pieces of the collapsed ceiling. Welf was near her, a half meter away perhaps, sprawled atop a particularly large rock. Lincoln was just a meter or so ahead of the boy, himself slumped against the wall. Bell breathed a trepid sigh as he walked over to the man first.

"Hey, bro!" he called out, careful not to be too loud.

The man stirred slightly, gripping his side in pain, and opened his eyes. He looked to the boy and flashed a brief smile, holding up his left hand and extending his thumb to the air.

Bell helped the man to his feet and the two set about rousing the others. It was a relieved and elated sight at first, the group happy to be alive after this most recent disaster. Yet this too would soon be shattered.

They set about to gathering their things, their equipment having been scattered in the commotion. Amazingly enough though, it all seemed to be intact. Lily was perhaps the most excited of the four when she discovered her rucksack was almost entirely unharmed. Miraculously it had only suffered a few scratches and nicks in the fall.

"Any idea where we are?" Bell asked her.

"Lily's not sure, Mister Bell…" the prum replied, busily checking the sack's contents.

Indeed, even the glass and ceramic items had someway or another managed to survive their fall. Lily huffed with satisfaction as she replaced the items in her pack, seating it on her shoulders. She winced ever so slightly as she stood, now ready to join her group's deliberations.

"This never really happens." She said, interjecting herself into the conversation, "Lily has never heard of the dungeon floor collapsing, so there's no telling where we've ended up."

"We got that much, shrimpy." Welf replied, "So how do we figure it out?"

This was the question burning in everyone's mind, an important one at that. There would be no worse idea than to wander these halls aimlessly, hoping one could find an indicator of location. Few such things existed in the dungeon at all. Even then they were only useful in conjunction with a proper map. Despite Lily's forethought and her crudely rendered recreation, the prum had no way to tell where they were.

Perhaps then it was some small degree of fortune what greeted them next.

As the group discussed their predicament, there came a most dreadful sound from the depths of the hall. From one end the now familiar rumbling of hooves began to echo, shaking the floor slightly under its fervor. All four froze as the sound overtook their conversation.

"There's just no way…" Lincoln mumbled, voicing the party's disbelief.

Indeed, the horde of man-beasts had once more found them. Their rumbling hunt sounded to the tone of guttural fear welling up in the four. All eyes went wide, staring into the darkness, as they stood there in utter astonishment.

"Well, we know which way to go now at least…" Welf muttered.

As if in agreement the four turned tail and headed in the opposite direction. Clamoring over the rubble, they bolted as fast as their legs could carry them. Further and further into the dark hallway they ran, hoping for any possible sign of hope.

It wasn't long after this that the group found their way into an incredibly large room. It stretched at least a good seventy meters across, with a berth of around eighty or so from side to side. The ceiling was itself a good thirty meters tall as well, leading the group to awe as they trotted inside.

All four came to a stop at the room's center, huffing and gasping for air. They were thoroughly tuckered out by now, having been running for somewhere around two hours at this point. Yet still, even as they reeled with exhaustion, the endless hoof beats of their pursuers echoed in the distance. With terrified faces, the four resolved themselves and took up arms.

"Guess this is as good a place as any to go down." Welf commented dryly, sword clutched tight in hands.

"Giving up on us already, Smithy?" Lincoln chuckled, clutching his sword tightly as well.

"No, just sayin, if we're gonna go at least we got space to maneuver. Might take a few with us."

"Hey, let's stay positive!" Bell chimed in, sweaty hand squeezing the Hestia Knife, "We might pull off a miracle, you two!"

Lily smiled to herself at this, absolutely loving the boy's naïve outlook. She considered to herself, at that very moment, something she'd been pushing out of her mind for the last few weeks. With certain death facing them, this seemed a perfect time to think about it. Perhaps it could offer some small comfort in the end.

"Here they come!" Lincoln bellowed.

Indeed, the Minotaur were coming into sight from the depths of the hallway. A cavalcade of death and destruction, sprinting as fast as their hooves would carry them. The look of murder burned fiercely in their eyes, the air pouring from their snouts as white as snow. The tremble of the ground grew violent under their beating hooves, shaking the group as they stood side by side.

The four were all but ready to face them when the horde came to a screeching halt. All at once the Minotaur, seeming utterly afraid of something or other, simply could not stop themselves fast enough. As they did this, one managed to accidently cross the threshold of the chamber with a tumble. It promptly scrambled to stand, turning around and leaping back into the hallway.

All eyes watched in utter bewilderment at this odd sight. The monsters seemed to do the same, staring angrily at the party from their perch.

"What…" Bell muttered, not understanding what he was seeing.

"Are they… scared?" Lincoln stated more than asked, his voice trembling.

"Let's not find out. Come on!" Lily called.

The prum grabbed Bell by the belt from behind, pulling the boy toward the room's other end. Toward the only other exit in the expansive chamber, hoping the others would follow suit. She was stopped dead in her tracks before taking three steps.

There, at the other end of the chamber, stood another veritable horde of Minotaur. Their eyes glowed fiercely with deathly rage. Lily's heart sank like a stone at this sight, her hand losing its grip on Bell's belt.

"No… We're blocked in?" she mused, heartbroken at the sight.

Bell turned, taking in the horrid realization himself. The other two followed suit shortly after, awful reality settling in for all. There would be no more flight this day, the group now trapped like rats.

All four dropped their weapons as the hope drained from their bodies.

Ϭ

"Eina!"

The half-elf's ears twitched with annoyance at this as her emerald eyes glanced up from her book. Unsurprisingly, she was greeted with the sight of fluffy pink hair and an ample bosom bouncing as her coworker bounded toward her desk. With a sigh, Eina placed a bookmark on her current page and shut the book slowly. The half-elf composed herself as best she could before the woman approached her, huffing and puffing miserably as if she'd just finished a marathon.

"Eina, it's awful!" Mischa cried.

"Please don't tell me you're locked out of your house again…" Eina sighed in response.

The woman's eyes glittered fiercely for only a moment before she responded to her coworker's harsh accusation.

"No, it's the dungeon!" She declared, "A report just came in that the stairway to floor thirteen has collapsed entirely!"

Eina's emeralds shot wide open at this, searching her coworker's face in hopes of finding this to be some sort of tasteless joke. The face was full of worry and helplessness, telling her this was not the case. The half-elf swallowed hard at this, her throat suddenly going dry.

"Any word on how?" she asked as professionally as she could manage.

"No, none." Mischa replied, "But the guild is about to hold a meeting. The boss sent me to come get you."

Eina asked no more, slamming her book on the desk as she stood. Mischa jumped slightly at this, following the half-elf as she stomped off into the depths of the guildhall.

The two wound their way quickly through the halls, joining a veritable flurry of other advisors and receptionists headed for the same room. The procession was unusually well organized, giving merit to the guild's clockwork standards. It didn't take long for the group of, perhaps forty, employees to reach the assembly room.

They filed in with unearthly calm, an indicator of the grave nature of the muster. One by one they took their seats, arranged similar to a university classroom, as an older gentleman stood at the front.

He had an almost regal air about him, his stance confident and his belly fat. A well-groomed beard sat upon an aged face, wrinkled with years of worrisome work. Wizened eyes peered calculatingly through thick spectacles under a thinning hairline, watching the underlings clamor for their seats. When at last all were seated, the old man cleared his throat loudly.

He addressed the crowd gravely as the meeting commenced, the subject this day being the dungeon's odd behavior.

Ϫ

A small fire burned weakly in the gigantic chamber, four downtrodden eyes focused upon its flickering light. The party had recovered somewhat since their unsettling discovery, somewhat eased that their attackers seemed held at bay. Recovered enough, that is, to somewhat enjoy the meal they now ate listlessly as they sat around their little campfire. The food was filling yet tasteless as they chewed, the savor robbed from them by the situation.

"This might not be so bad if it weren't for those damn bulls…" Welf commented weakly.

The others huffed in agreement, Lincoln turning to look at the horde gathered at the entrance they'd come from. His eyes lit with a bit of anger as he picked up a small rock, standing and heaving it at one of the Minotaur. It struck the critter square between the eyes, eliciting an angry roar. Yet that was all, the creature did not charge.

Lincoln sat back down with an angry grunt, turning back to the fire. His companions glared angrily at him as he resumed gnawing on a piece of bread.

"What?" the young man sneered.

"Are you _trying_ to piss them off?!" Lily nearly screamed in reply.

Lincoln didn't respond, instead averting his gaze to the ground. He continued to gnaw on his bread as the others sighed in unison, irked by his childish reaction.

"Think there might be another way out?" Bell asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Didn't see any…" Welf muttered in response.

"Wouldn't hurt to look though, would it?"

Welf had to agree, nodding his head to indicate so, though he honestly had no gumption left to do so. Bell was much the same, turning his dejected gaze back to the fire. It was Lincoln who more or less volunteered for this, gulping down a swig of water to chase down the last of the bread.

"I'll have a peek around then." He huffed, standing and walking away from the group.

The young man walked with angry steps, glancing more than a few times at the two hordes of Minotaur at either end of the chamber. The man beasts stood there just as before, glaring angrily but making no attempt to enter. It was a standoff if ever there was one.

Lincoln made his way to the far side of the room, to the left from the way they came in, and started to run his eyes along the wall as he walked. He looked closely, hoping to find anything at all. A crack, a crevice, a hole or anything would do, so long as it led out of here and they could squeeze through. This he did not find though, instead seeing only reddish rock wall no matter where he looked. With an irritated cluck of his tongue, he turned and walked to the other side of the room.

He'd come to the opposite end, staring at his feet the whole way, when he lifted his gaze. There his eyes caught something amazing almost immediately, widening in awe. It was a good fifty meters from the fire his comrades were gathered around, tucked neatly out of their sight. It was no wonder, therefore, that none of them had spied it upon entering the room.

There, dug deeply into the reddish wall of the gargantuan chamber, sat a large sword poked about halfway into the rock. The half of its blade that was visible was an orange-red color, wavy like a snake crawling across the ground. The hilt and pommel were an ornate bronze, not even remotely aged by its long slumber in the dungeon.

Lincoln's mouth dropped wide open as beheld her for the first time. His great-grandfather's sword, Titanic.


	13. Titanic

Chapter 12

Titanic

Ϫ

"This…"

Lincoln's voice echoed throughout the room, cold and hollow as the biting air around him. His mahogany eyes were affixed securely to the reddish blade jutting from the wall, its brass pommel shining faintly in the light of the far off campfire. As his echo carried, his voice could choke out no more. His mouth dried and his throat closed nearly shut, a sick awe overtook him as he stared.

"Did you find something?!" called Lily, a little worried over his silence.

Yet the young man did not reply, for he could not had he wanted to. His gaze was fixed firmly to the blade, his mind now flooding with memories of the journal. Tales of a beastly man, one to whom he was blood kin, overtook his consciousness as he gazed. He was firmly bewitched with the splendor.

The others took close notice of this after a few minutes of his absence. There was no way it could take so long to peer around the room for possible points of egress. With a look to each other and hesitant nods, the three stood and approached the entranced man.

Their steps were far from silent, slowly taken but not carefully considered. Any novice of combat would've easily heard the crunching of rocky ground as they approached. Alas, Lincoln was far from himself as they advanced, causing his comrades to worry at his lack of reaction.

They stood beside him, unnoticed and all but ignored, and turned their gaze from him to the object of his fascination. One by one their eyes lit with likewise amazement, peering upon the wavy blade dug deep into the dungeon wall. Though not familiar as he, the man's comrades knew very well the stories and legends. The blade of the one-armed man, a veritable monster in his own right. The hero who slew countless monsters, neither blessing nor party to watch his back.

Indeed, as all four stood and stared upon that most famous of blades, the still-living legend of Francis gripped them all in its splendor. The blade sat there, stunning and beautiful and unimaginably deadly, rested tightly in the equally reddish wall. Its aura had now transfixed the entire group, nary but a whisper uttered between them as they gawked.

"Is that… really it?" Welf pondered, first voice to pierce their shared silence.

None answered him for quite a few minutes, bewitched by the blade. Yet Lincoln did eventually break himself enough to respond, more of instinct than manners or awareness.

"Yeah… that's her…"

"So, we're on floor fifteen then…"

This time Liliruka voiced herself, a whisper barely audible above pounding hearts. Those chestnut eyes were measuring it up, pondering heavily the value of such a legendary weapon. Old habits do die hard after all.

"Something's not right." Bell spoke up, sensible albeit fearfully so.

"Bell, nothing's been right today." Lincoln responded, largely breaking himself of his fixation, "This is… something else entirely."

The other three nodded their heads in agreement, absentmindedly but still unanimously.

By this point, having stared at the sword for nearly ten minutes, the awe was wearing off and gradually being replaced with a sort of curiosity. Bell's heart and mind were beginning to fill with the tales of his late grandfather, of heroes conquering vile beasts by virtue of will alone. Lily's thoughts became fully occupied with ponderings over the blade's value, a virtue of her disavowed former self. Welf was taking in the full grandeur of the craftsmanship, of a blade worthy of song and praise in the greatest smithies the world over.

Lincoln though, his initial stunned awe having worn off, was still consumed with thoughts of a man he'd never known. One Francis the Bold, great-grandfather and patron of his family, the famed hero and pariah of Orario. Equally adored and hated, depending on who was asked. Indeed, as he still gazed upon her, Titanic brought back the memories of a certain old leather journal. This along with thoughts of the new life he now leads, a life that might soon come to a grisly end.

"Should we try to take it?" Lily pondered aloud, unintentionally voicing her old habit.

"How could we?" Welf responded dejectedly, "There've been level fives that couldn't so much as budge that thing. We couldn't hope to pull that sucker free."

"Yeah, and besides…" Bell whispered, turning to look at the hordes of Minotaur at either end of the chamber.

"Besides, now's not the time." Lincoln interjected, finishing the boy's thought.

His fellows agreed with faint nods of their swirling heads. All had equal interest in the thing for one reason or another, but for the moment the weapon was the least of their concerns. Save for Lincoln, who was finding himself hard-pressed to avert his thoughts. Yet he mustered himself to do so, pulling himself to the situation at hand.

"This at least tells us where we are." He stated coolly.

"Yeah, now we can die knowing how close we were to makin it." Welf spoke up, his tone cold as the air.

Bell and Lily shared a simultaneous glance at the ground, seeming to admire their shoes as Welf's words sank in. Lincoln had no argument against the observation, yet neither would he let it go without retort.

"We're not dead, Welf."

"Not yet." The smith interrupted.

"Since that's so, we can still look for a way out." Lincoln finished, perhaps rougher than he should've.

"Well, did ya see anything while you were walkin around?!" Welf half-screamed in reply.

Lincoln turned his gaze back to the sword, admiring its eerie beauty as he thought of exactly how to reply. The answer was obvious, he'd seen nothing remotely resembling a way out, but that did not mean he would just let it go. As he stared at that reddish blade, wavy like a serpent, a measure of confidence filled him.

"I didn't find anything, but I'm horribly tired." He said, earnestly yawning, "I think we all are and that's not gonna help us find a way out."

The others agreed, unvoiced but still understood. So the man continued, hoping to rally his fellows to some degree.

"Let's rest for now, maybe even sleep if we can. It seems safe enough to do so after all."

At this he cast his own gaze to the two monstrous hordes, staring as well but still unmoving.

"Once we're a little more energetic and alert, we can look around again and try to figure a way out of this."

He looked to his comrades once more, receiving nods of agreement in response. Even Welf seemed pacified with the oddly clearheaded suggestion. So the four returned to their campfire, leaving Titanic to her solemn vigil within the rock wall. They put a few more bits of kindling on the fire, huddling close and wrapping in their salamander wool.

They did sleep, for a few hours at least, but it was not restful. Cold surety gripped their hearts as they bade their bodies for respite. It would be hard going from here on if they were to survive this.

Ϭ

"We have a situation." The old man stated calmly, "As I'm sure you've all heard, the stairs from floor twelve to thirteen have collapse wholly and entirely, barring all access to or from deeper floors."

This old man, round bellied and thin haired, was the head of the Guild's Public Relations division. Just as his title would indicate, he had a very regal and professional bearing to him. Though he stood in front of a crowd of worried faces, delivering worrisome news, he showed no sign of his own unease. This is not to say that he had none, for he was likely the most worried of all, but merely that he held it expertly in check.

The room and its occupants, recipients of his unsettling news, was an altogether different case. Alarmed gasps and gazes met his every word, whispers flying to and fro until he cleared his throat loudly to silence the clamor.

"Your job as advisors and guides is the safety and proper operation of adventurers and their dungeon related activities." He continued calmly, "My job, however, is to ensure the Guild's good relation with the citizens of Orario. This includes, but is not limited to, keeping adventurers in line and ensuring compliance with our rules and regulations. After all, nothing's worse than rowdy swordsmen who can't leave their work in that pit after a long day."

The old man paused for breath, eyeing his subordinates who were nearly on the edge of their seats. He took a deep breath to deliver the meat of the gathering.

"My job also entails the prevention and soothing of panic and public outcry, both of which are likely if news of this gets out to certain ears."

His wizened eyes met each and every pair of the room's other occupants, searching for confirmation that his innuendo was understood. With a few exceptions, and satisfyingly enough, it seemed it was.

"Therefore, we have detained those few who witnessed the occurrence. They are being held under guise of questioning for improper activity, but I must stress that this will not hold for long. It is for this reason you are gathered, as we must come up with a proper way to distract the people until we can ascertain the full gravity of this situation."

The alarmed whispers resumed almost as soon as he had finished. The room was alight with disbelief and anxiety over the situation, many mouths vying to give their opinion to neighboring seats. It was a cacophony of near panic and total discord, finally eliciting an outcry from the old man.

"Damn it, people, do you understand our situation?!" he yelled, pounding the lectern in front of him.

His composure now gone, the old man's eyes darted from person to person. A few beads of sweat formed upon and slid slowly down his forehead, reddened with irritation at the group before him.

"We're facing not just possible panic but total dissolution of public order!" he bellowed, his own alarm spilling through, "I need all of you to get it together just long enough to give me ideas for how to distract our good citizens. At least long enough for us to figure out how to break this news, if not fix it altogether."

The room was hushed for a good few minutes, all minds considering the old man's words. It was true that an event like this could incite panic, if not from the citizens then at least from the affected Familia. It wouldn't take long to notice the missing members, cut off by the dungeon's odd behavior. The last thing the organization needed was a gaggle of angry Gods and Goddesses, knocking down their doors in search of their missing members.

Thus, the whole room now fully understanding the issue, hands gradually raised one by one into the air. Thoughts and ideas were given, some useful while others simply compounded the issue. More than a few pointed out further trouble that covering up the disaster could bring.

Eina's mind was consumed with worry for her own wards, two of which stuck out particularly in her mind. A certain pair, whom had informed her earlier of their trip to the middle floors, were at the forefront of her thoughts. Even without confirmation, she was assured that they were trapped by this. It seemed to be their very nature to be accosted by any disaster or misfortune possible.

"Why don't we set up a festival, like Ganesha Familia?" spoke a timid man, normally posted at the exchange.

The old man eyed the speaker cynically, a piercing gaze if ever there was one. It was a fair idea, but it also stood to further compound the issue.

"How do you propose that we set up such an event on such short notice?" he posed his question cautiously.

"We could close the hall down and shut the dungeon off entirely, diverting resources and manpower to both the investigation and the festival. With forty or so working on it, we could have it set up and ready in a day or so."

The manager crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, running numbers and statistics through his mind as he considered the notion. It seemed a solid enough plan if they could flesh it out properly. So with a nod of his head, more to himself than anything, the old man gave his approval.

"Very good then, it's settled." He spoke with a commanding tone, "We'll set the exchange managers and all available goods-personnel to work on the festival."

He then cast his gaze across the room, searching for a certain half-elf. When at last his eyes fell upon her, he took a deep breath and continued.

"As for our advisors, you will all be under Miss Tulle. I expect ten propositions on my desk, in the next hour, for how to excuse this shutdown without raising too much suspicion."

Eina visibly stiffened in her seat as he stared at her, his eyes conveying the message that any mistakes would not be tolerated. With a huff, the old man gathered himself and started to leave, stopping just as he was crossing the threshold.

"Oh, and bring plenty of alcohol. Always seems to help pacify large crowds."

With that last bit, almost an afterthought with the way he worded it, the manager left the room. It was veritable bedlam no sooner than he'd shut the door behind him, everyone scrambling to make groups and strategize. Papers flew all around as seats shuffled and screeched along the ground, bodies scrambling to new positions.

Eina held her head in her hands, rubbing her temples as she began to dread her choice of career.

β

Lillian paced around the table square in the middle of their little room. Her frantic gait seemed poised to wear holes in the floor as she repeatedly traced a circle round the furnishing. Her anxiety was obvious to even an untrained eye, mirrored by the Goddess occupying the room with her. Said Goddess, who was busy chewing her fingernails, being just as worried as the girl.

There had been no word of Bell's party for two days now. The rising sun, which could not be seen in the subterranean room, greeted the third day of their worried ponderings now. It was a scene fit for a mental ward in some awful sanitarium, two people nervously pacing and ticking as though their minds had left them entirely.

Hestia had been through this before, yet, with the recent events and the addition of Lincoln and Lillian, all bets were off. She had been to the guild twice now, receiving no helpful information for her trouble. Many times had it crossed her mind now that she might've gotten more, were she a more affluent Goddess that is. Yet as it stood, Hestia was confined to sitting around and worrying while the guild handled the situation. A situation they would give her no details of.

"Goddess, there has to be something we can do…" Lillian spoke worriedly.

"They've shut us out every time, Lil." Hestia replied, almost whispering, "I can't even get in touch with that half-elf advisor now…"

The two shared a brief, worried glance along with a heavy sigh. It seemed there would be no solution in relying on their government this day. So with that, Lillian continued her pacing while Hestia chewed her nails to the quick.

This somber procession was eventually interrupted, and none too soon either, by a loud bang from up above. The hollow crack of metal meeting wood with repeated strikes. This snapped the two out of their worried musings, drawing both sets of eyes to the ceiling.

"What was that?" Hestia spoke, voicing their shared curiosity.

Silence followed the brief report, but only for a few moments. Long enough for the two to settle back into their anxious habits. When it sounded again, this time with true fervor and gravity, both nearly hit the floor in their surprise.

Hestia was the first to stand, without a word, and nearly lunge for the stairs. Her mind had only just made the connection that the sound came from the church's door. So with hope in her heart, hope for some sort of news about her children, the little Goddess scurried eagerly up the stairs.

It took only moments for the two to make it into the church proper, Lillian having followed close behind. They flew upon the door, furiously tearing it open only to be greeted by a pair of alarmed, golden eyes.

It was their rude guest from only a few days previous, the half-breed Annabelle. Her gaze was understandably alarmed, the door she was about to knock upon having been flung upon in front of her. Yet, it held something more as well. A sense of disgust almost, or perhaps disillusionment.

"What are you doing here, Miss?" Lillian asked as politely as possible.

The woman regained herself admirably, clearing her throat loudly to reestablish her composure.

"I just thought I'd come see if that white headed kid was back yet." She said flatly.

Hestia and Lillian shared a puzzled glance at each other, failing to notice the woman's growing unease. They turned back after only a moment, Hestia being the one to respond.

"He's not here and we haven't heard from him in two days now…"

The little Goddess' voice was as dejected as her expression, her eyes unable to meet the woman's.

"Here too…" Annabelle hissed under her breath.

Lillian narrowed her eyes at the half-breed, having barely made out the words she seemed to want to hide. The girl's heart was filled with worry anew, alarm bells ringing in her head as she broached an obvious question.

"Do you know something about what's going on?" she asked timidly.

Annabelle looked around for a moment, as if she were searching for a missing friend, before responding.

"I hate to ask, but may I come in?"

The girl and Goddess looked at each other again, mistrust clear in their gaze. With an irritated cluck of her tongue, the half-breed decided it would be best to elaborate on her request.

"I don't know that it's safe to talk about it outside. I'll tell you what I know, but only if you let me in."

Though it was indeed true that talking outside wasn't the safest option, the woman also had ulterior motives. Motives that would not be long hidden, due in large part to a loud growl resounding from her stomach. Loud enough, that is, to be audible to the two standing in the doorway.

"A little food would be nice, too…" she added, face blushing a deep red as she averted her gaze.

Ϭ

Eina shifted herself nervously in her chair, her eyes wandering all along the many bodies walking to and fro. Strong, muscular men carried equipment and bits to set up various stalls and stands. Bespectacled men, and women as well, barked orders at the muscle moving from place to place. Slowly but surely, the courtyard in front of Babel Tower was turning into a fairground.

It had taken two entire days now, along with nearly every trick Eina could recall, to raise the fairground without raising suspicions in the process. The tower and dungeon had been cut off from the rest of the city entirely, an elegantly spun excuse of renovation given to hush the masses. Thus far, it had all gone swimmingly, much to the half-elf's amazement.

Yet, she could not still a gnawing sense of dread welling up in her heart. Almost as if some sort of forewarning or omen, Eina's very soul seemed to be colored fantastically with trepidation. She just knew something, though what she could not be sure, would come along to knock over this house of cards they were erecting. All in the vain name of their current leader, one who believed the public only needed to know the bare minimum concerning goings on within the city.

The half-elf sighed deeply to herself, emerald eyes still affixed to the sight before her. It would only be a few hours now until it was all done, this she knew, and from there the festivities would commence. There had been no expense spared to procure the finest and strongest spirits. Neither had any effort been spared to bring in the city's most influential figures. Though rumors had already begun to spread that something was amiss with the dungeon, this massive party stood poised to quiet those tittle-tattles.

This was all according to the overall plan, to stay the masses long enough to finish their investigation. An investigation which had, in over forty-eight hours mind you, managed to come up with only more questions. An investigation which had not managed to make any progress, despite the massive force devoted to it. An investigation which would most certainly remain unresolved long after the fires of this festival grew cold.

So she sat there, overseeing her remaining duty of ensuring the festival's proper setup and initiation. That is, until a certain familiar voice called out to her. Faint and whispered, yet still loud enough for Eina's half-elven ears to hone in on. She turned her head toward the noise, keen eyes picking the figure out from behind a clump of brush in the distance.

Two jet-black ponytails quivered nervously as the half-elf's gaze fell upon them, the same soft voice calling out once more.

Ϫ

"Sorry, Mister Bell, but that's the last of our supply…" the prum admitted glumly.

Ruby eyes sat morosely on the meager scrap of bread, barely half of a handful, and the scraggly piece of dried meat beside it. Certainly not enough to make any semblance of a proper meal, yet hopefully enough to quiet a growling stomach. So, with a thankful nod, the boy clutched his tiny ration and staggered slowly back to his seat by the fire. He plopped himself down weakly, almost immediately setting upon his meager scraps of food.

The story was the same for the others: a tiny piece of bread and a scant piece of dried meat. This along with naught but a tiny cup of water to chase it down. For you see, the quartet was upon their third straight day in the bowels of the dungeon. A situation which many before them had weathered and survived, albeit with proper planning and supply. Though, one cannot exactly plan to be trapped in a room with only a day and a half's worth of food and water.

Snarling man-beasts stood ever vigilant at either entrance of the massive chamber, seemingly inexhaustible. The creatures had been this way since the group's unexpected arrival, watching them like hawks the entire time. They seemed unwilling to venture further into the room, which proved both blessing and curse. Yet they also clearly held no intention of leaving, be it for boredom or any other reason.

Thus it had come to this, Lily morosely handing out the last of a valiantly stretched food supply to her equally glum comrades. All seemed sure that this would prove their last meal, having found no potential points of escape despite days of searching. So now they sat around their tiny fire, dejected and all but broken, as they burnt the few scraps of roots torn from the dungeon walls.

The tiny fire did nothing to stave off the biting cold that blew through the chamber in regular intervals. Nay, it only served to give some small amount of light as the quartet awaited their demise. Yet, all did take some small solace in being able to at least see their fellows, dire situation notwithstanding.

"I'm sorry, guys…" Bell spoke up, barely audible over the crackling of the dying fire.

"What've you got to be sorry for, eh?" Welf replied, the others cocking their heads curiously.

Bell didn't answer immediately, instead turning his gaze to the flickering flames. His eyes lit an especially bright-red hue in the firelight, a hauntingly gorgeous sight as he considered his own meaning. Hunger had by this point dulled his senses and thoughts, though he still fought to maintain himself as much as he could.

"I'm sorry for getting us all into this." He replied at last, unwilling to look his fellows in the eye.

The smith and prum looked to each other, unwittingly sharing virtually the same thought, before chuckling faintly. Both looked back at the boy, still giggling more of nervousness than humor.

"It's not Mister Bell's fault…" Lily spoke up first.

"Yeah, I'm with shrimpy." Welf concurred, "This ain't your fault, kiddo."

The boy lifted his head and brought his gaze to the smith's, rubies locking stare with silver. The older boy smiled in response, strongly as he could manage despite his own hunger.

"We knew what we were getting into, Bell. The dungeon is never a safe bet and there's no telling when your number's up."

Welf's words were not particularly comforting, yet still they did elicit a wobbly smile from the boy. The tone and trust conveyed by the smith had reached him and it was a welcome feeling. It would not stay the growls coming from his stomach, protesting the measly meal consumed all too quickly, but it did comfort him all the same.

Lincoln sat apart from the group, though still near the fire. He was off in his own little world for all this, abstaining entirely from the heartwarming colloquy. The man's thoughts were still entirely consumed with the sword, far off from the campfire, still dug in its lonely resting place. His mind had scarcely wandered from it at all during these two days. Now, hunger and fatigue setting upon him, the young man could almost feel it calling to him.

His mahogany eyes stared into the darkness, towards the blade's lonely vigil. He was utterly bewitched, transfixed as he all but heeded the siren call echoing in his mind alone. It went entirely unnoticed by the others when he stood, silent as the grave, and sauntered off toward the call. The three continued a less than lively conversation while their companion ambled off towards Titanic.

Lincoln's approach was erratic and trancelike, to say the least. Still, he managed to come to stand right before the blade before regaining himself somewhat. He had made almost no sound during his entire walk, gasping faintly when he somewhat came to.

It did shock him to recover himself there, standing before the aptly named sword. The last he could recall, he was sitting by the shabby little fire and gnawing at his last bit of ration. Yet here he now stood, staring at his great-grandfather's blade. He could feel his heart begin to pound in time with his head, the faint siren calling now a palpable hum in his ears. The man glanced momentarily to his fellows, blissfully unaware of the ghostly call it seemed only he could hear.

As Lincoln returned his gaze to the blade, its glorious silhouette greeting him like a forlorn lover, his consciousness grew weak once more. It almost seemed to call his hand, said appendage raising slowly in response. He wanted to fight it, in some small part of his heart, as it frightened him to no end. Yet no matter what, he could not stop his slowly rising hand.

The man's world went pitch black with a furious bang the moment his finger brushed the brass of the hilt.

β

Hestia and Lillian stared with wide eyes as their guest, the none too polite Annabelle, hastily consumed the small feast before her. It was nothing too fancy, yet still it was prepared with mind to feed three rather than one. Though, as the aforementioned two watched the half-breed's consumption, their appetites seemed to leave them. So they sat there and watched, wondering if a break to this gluttony would ever come.

When at last it did, the woman stopping to guzzle her water, Hestia leaned forward to grab her attention. This might have failed, had the Goddess not grabbed the woman's plate and pulled it back just enough to notice. Annabelle looked up at her, her eyes full of ravenous hunger, as Hestia spoke at last.

"You certainly are hungry, eh?" she said, with no small hint of sarcasm.

"You not gonna let me finish?" the half-breed inquired crassly.

Hestia nearly had to bite her tongue, in a very literal sense, to withhold her irritation. She wanted badly to tell her off, yet Annabelle had information she sorely needed.

"Oh, no, you're more than welcome to eat me out of house and home." Hestia replied calmly, "But first, before you go on, could you please tell me what you know about my children?"

The two locked eyes for no less than a few minutes, a tense air descending upon them, before Annabelle relented. With an angry cluck of her tongue, the half-breed leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. She averted her gaze before speaking in a low, sneering tone.

"I hope you realize I'm going to hold you to that statement, Goddess." She spoke coldly, staring at the kitchen, "But I guess I do owe you some explanation first."

The woman grew silent after this statement, her breathing becoming audibly nervous. She was clearly considering her next words carefully, though for what reason was anyone's guess. Before a minute could pass, she sighed deeply and uncrossed her arms. The woman instead leaned forward, locking her gaze to the Goddess' once more, and rested her elbows on her knees.

"I was in there when it happened, just barely managed to get away. Now those crooks in the guild wanna cover it all up, probably thinking it might damage their reputation."

Hestia watched her with questioning eyes, clearly not following Annabelle's words in the slightest. She could see this and, with an exaggerated sigh, decided to start from the beginning.

"I was on my way out that day, unsettled by this weird rumble everyone was talking about. It did seem odd to see so few in there, but it's not like I care enough about other adventurers to wonder. Besides, coming here had set me in a sour mood so I was satisfied enough to have blown off some steam."

She paused, grabbing her water and taking a long sip before continuing.

"So as I'm leaving, I see some guild bozos up ahead. They're grabbing and cuffing people, everyone that was trying to leave. That ain't right, ya know? So, I decided to… hide myself. Managed to give em the slip, but not before overhearing this little tidbit."

At this, the woman leaned in closer. Whatever she was about to say was clearly important enough to whisper up close.

"The stairs between floor twelve and thirteen collapsed. No one's been allowed in since then, and no one's come out either. No telling how many are trapped down there…"

Her story finished, or at least told as much as she was willing, Annabelle sat back up. She grabbed the plate Hestia had withdrawn, easily removing it from the Goddess' weak grasp. The half-breed proceeded to dig into the meal once more.

Hestia only sat there beside Lillian, both now the color of bleached bones. A deathly pallor had overtaken them, alarm and fears at last confirmed by their guest. It was an undoubtedly unsettling sight, to see a Goddess so seemingly hopeless.

"Miss… Annabelle…" Lillian half-whispered, trying to piece her thoughts together.

"Hm?" the woman replied, mouth full of food.

"Do you know why we haven't been able to contact their advisor?"

The woman swallowed her mouthful, chasing it down comically with her water, before mounting her reply.

"The Guild's gonna hold some kind of banquet or something today, to distract everybody most likely. I guess she's probably mixed up in that nonsense. Hell, the rumors goin around are sayin it'll be a weeklong shindig."

With that she dug in once more, her hosts sitting in stunned silence as the half-breed gorged herself. Having been cut off from her only source of income, a shaky source at that, the woman had no intent of leaving a scrap of the meal behind. She was absolutely determined to scarf down every morsel of her first meal in over thirty hours, the size of which she hadn't had in years.

The gears in Hestia's head began to turn with both alarm and lucidity. If ever there had been a time for the little Goddess to act, it was now. With hardly a moment's hesitation she stood, walking briskly over to the nightstand beside her bed. She opened its lone drawer quite forcefully, seeming as though she would tear it off. She dug around for only a moment before taking a leather-bound book, covered in a film of dust that seemed impossible to remove.

Journal in hand, the Goddess set off without a word. Her tiny feet echoed loudly up the stairs and out the door.

Ϭ

Eina had snuck away from her station as discreetly as possible, alerting none to her absence. She crossed the courtyard, now more of a fairground, quickly and nearly dove into a bush. The very same bush behind which a tiny figure crouched, doing its best to be inconspicuous.

The little Goddess jumped with a scare when the half-elf came crashing into her little hiding place. Sapphire eyes met Eina's form, slouched on the ground and rubbing her now aching rear. The advisor returned the stare, somewhat relieved to see the familiar Goddess.

"Goddess Hestia, what are you doing here?" she asked calmly, expertly hiding her worry.

"What, I'm not good enough for an invite to your party?" she replied angrily.

The two stared each other down for a time, a furious Goddess and a trepid guild advisor. Both had plenty of reason for their emotional state, though neither was willing to show their hand. Before long, Hestia had had enough and decided to speak up.

"I know you know something about what's going on." She said, eyes full of furious tears, "I haven't seen my Bell or Lincoln for two days, nor have I heard from the smith or the supporter!"

Her voice gradually became more and more frantic, raising in octaves but thankfully not volume.

"Now, miss advisor, before I go and do something stupid, you have exactly two minutes to tell me what's up! And remember, you can't lie to a God!"

Hestia's face may have had the appearance of a child's, round and soft-featured, but her eyes presently burned with all the fury of the heavens above. That alone told Eina that the Goddess was quite serious, eliciting a deep sigh from the half-elf.

"I could lose my job, you know?" she spoke as if defeated.

"Piss off a Goddess and you stand to lose much more…" Hestia muttered sternly in reply.

With an audible gulp, Eina swallowed her trepidation and relented.

"The festival here, it'll be starting very soon. We're throwing it all week to distract the masses and important Gods while we figure out exactly what happened in the dungeon…"

"Go on."

"That's all I know, Goddess. I was given the bare minimum explanation of what went on, since my task was more public relations in this debacle."

Hestia eyed the half-elf suspiciously, wanting to be beyond sure that she was being honest. Her divine gaze pierced into Eina's heart, showing her exactly what the woman had said. Since both seemed to match up, Hestia sighed in a mixture of relief and irritation. It seemed she'd have to play her hand after all.

"Get back out there before I decide to throw you under the cart, Miss Advisor." Hestia hissed angrily.

Eina acquiesced to this order without a second thought, bowing a good three times as she crawled out from the bush. The half-elf retreated quickly to her station, thoroughly worried at what the irrational Goddess might be planning. Yet, she did her best to put it out of her mind. It wasn't as if she agreed entirely with this façade she was being forced to take part in, after all.

Hestia waited there for a long while, at least a good hour into the festivities, before emerging. Her tiny figure went completely unnoticed as she waltzed into the center of it all, climbing atop the fountain as if it were a natural thing to do.

From her new vantage, the little Goddess peered out over the crowd all around her. A few noticed her here and there, but most were well on their way toward fully enjoying the various refreshments. Too busy in their merrymaking to notice one tiny little Goddess standing atop a water-fixture.

Hestia clutched the leather-bound book tightly to her chest, taking in a deep lungful of air before shouting louder than she ever had before.

Λ

" _ **Μπορείτε τελικά ήρθε**_!"

A powerful voice, something akin to a thousand earthquakes, rattled Lincoln's very bones and roused him from a deep slumber. The young man gripped his head tightly with both hands, straining against the furious roar of the voice. It seemed to be all around him at once, much like a crowd speaking in perfect unison with one voice.

The man's mahogany eyes struggled to open, gradually managing to fight their way through the sound. When at last they did he was met with an utterly foreign sight, the likes of which he could never have imagined.

All around Lincoln was a wriggling mass of grey matter, sloshing much like waves in the sea. It seemed alive, thrashing around in all directions from where he lay. As he looked around, still clutching his head against the echo of the voice, a fixture came into view. Something like a pillar of granite, reaching upward into eternity, sat around ten meters in front of him. Carved like a great throne at the base, something shone brilliantly upon it.

The first thing that came to his mind was the sun. A great brightness fit to blind the unwary eye, throbbing like a roaring fire. This glorious brilliance seemed to regard him much like a sentient being, staring back at the man.

" _ **Με ακούς**_?"

It came again, the pounding roar of a voice fit to split mountains. Lincoln nearly vomited under the pain piercing through his skull, doubling over as he fought the call. It served no purpose to clutch his ears tightly shut, as it pierced clean through his very bones. Yet still he did so, trying in vain to stand as he struggled against the sound.

" _ **Αχ, μου φαίνεται να είναι πάρα πολύ δυνατά**_ …"

Once more it rang, like a thousand bells and a thousand splitting mountains all at once. This third volley of sound brought Lincoln to his knees, his head now feeling as if it would disintegrate if this continued.

Through teary eyes, barely able to open through the pain, Lincoln watched as the light came closer. In what seemed a few moments, or perhaps a few years, the brilliant figure came to stand above the man. His senses were so twisted at this point, Lincoln could no longer feel the proper passage of time. That is, until a warm and comforting sensation resonated from the back of his head.

With it the pain left him instantly, almost as if it had never been there at all. He could feel himself properly once more and was quick to scramble to his feet. What stood before him was awe inspiring by any stretch of the imagination.

A figure much like a man, clad in a dingy ivory robe. It shone like ten thousand suns, seeming as though it should blind him immediately. The face, hands and feet were little more than utter brilliance, the pure manifestation of light itself. Yet, somewhere under the hood, Lincoln could've sworn he could make out a face. A face smiling coyly like an excited child.

" _ **So, can you understand me now?**_ " it asked.

The voice was powerful, just as before, but soothing and warm. Like a mother speaking to her child, trying to calm them after a skinned knee. Lincoln was left nearly bereft of words by the indescribably amazing sensation.

"I… Yes…" he replied as if ensorcelled.

" _ **Good, there's a lot to say and little time to say it.**_ " It continued, pacing elegantly back to its throne.

The Being sat down with all the poise and dignity of the cosmos themselves, resting its face lazily on a shining fist.

" _ **Come, sit down child. I won't bite…**_ "

Lincoln did not, could not, disobey. He followed the instructions without a thought, coming to sit at the foot of the throne. The aura enveloping him was warmer and kinder than anything he'd ever felt. It calmed his very soul as he sat in the countenance of this Divinity.

" _ **You've gone through much, haven't you.**_ " It spoke sweetly, soothingly, " _ **You and your poor sister, so brave and so devoted. Why, I wonder?**_ "

Lincoln's eyes stared blankly at the Being, his ears listening but not hearing. He was entirely consumed in the glory of this thing, this Divinity, and could not snap himself out of it enough to respond. The Being saw this and, with a snap of its glowing fingers, dispelled the trance instantly.

" _ **There, better now?**_ "

Lincoln blinked his eyes a few times, still calm and under no duress. He answered the Being plainly and honestly.

"Yeah, I feel right…" he replied, calm but hesitant, "Where am I?"

" _ **Oh, not where but why.**_ " It responded with something like a chuckle.

As the Being laughed, if it could be called such, the swirling grey masses all around Lincoln began to take odd form. Some became stars, shining brightly and shooting off into the ether. Others became tiny maelstroms, dancing harmlessly around the bewildered young man. It was truly an amazing sight to behold, had any been there to do such.

" _ **Forgive me, child, as I have had not one guest in eons.**_ " The Being spoke, still giggling lightheartedly, " _ **I wish we had time to speak, but mine grows nigh. So, pleasantries aside, I'm afraid I must ask a favor of you.**_ "

Lincoln sat transfixed once more, though not ensorcelled as before. This time it was his own fascination, not the Being's aura, that gripped him.

"What?" he asked, unable to muster more.

It smiled at him, though the view was largely hidden by its brilliance.

" _ **I need you to help me. I can't tell you how, but you will know when it's time. Would you do this for me, child?**_ "

The man could not refuse had he wanted to, which he did not. Wordlessly he nodded his head in acquiescence. At this the Being smiled fervently, the wriggling masses all around giving birth to fantastic displays. More beautiful than before, the mass became tiny galaxies and burning quasars. A celestial dance ensued around the two, attesting to the Being's delight.

" _ **Good, thank you.**_ " It spoke excitedly, though still soothingly, " _ **Now, return and dance for me. My first messenger awaits...**_ "

With that, Lincoln's consciousness once more faded to blackness. A heavy sleep overtook the man, removing him from the Being's throne-room.

Ϫ

The first sight to return to his eyes was golden in hue and heavy. Lincoln blinked wearily, two then three times, as he struggled to come back to himself. It felt as though he'd been asleep for ages, just now waking once more. It took a few minutes for the man to register what his hands were clutching so tightly.

"Gods…" came a voice, familiar and slightly baritone.

He turned to see the redheaded smith, standing just to his right. The younger man had a look on his face that could only be described as bewildered, his eyes looking as though they might pop from his skull. His mouth hung agape as well, further attesting to his astonishment.

"Bro, how'd you… how'd you do that?"

Now another voice, higher pitched but still clearly male. It came from his right and the man lazily swung his eyes to see its owner. White hair and ruby eyes, his fellow Familia member. The boy had the same look upon him, somewhere between bemusement and amazement. Slowly the man's mind began to come back to life, firing up as it shook off the heavy sensation of deep slumber.

He turned his gaze back to his own hands, seeing now exactly what had transfixed his fellows in such bewilderment. It grabbed hold of him as well, the man's freshly awoken mind filling with fascination as he looked upon it. Glorious and wavy, like a serpent crossing the ground. Reddish and powerful by virtue of appearance alone, edge sharp enough to see with the naked eye.

There it sat in his hands, the fabled blade of his predecessor. The mighty sword with which his great-grandfather had laid low a Minotaur, single-handed and without a blessing. There in his hands he clutched the mighty Titanic, pulled free of its long vigil within the dungeon wall.

All mouths were agape and silent as they beheld this, a sight fit for the greatest of song. A feat attempted and failed by thousands before, performed unawares by this unwitting young man. A title and namesake reclaimed, by means unknown. Even Liliruka, who normally had much to say no matter the situation, was struck dumb by this scene. Yet the spectacle would quickly be brought to an abrupt end.

As they stood there, staring at the fabled blade, a great rumbling overtook the chamber. A rumbling much the same as what had stranded them before, destroying the stairs above and dropping them down two entire floors. It returned once more, this time with a fury the likes of which none of the four had ever felt. The walls buckled and cried under its wrath, seeming as if they would give at any moment. The ceiling, far above and out of sight, rippled like water under the furious tremor. Even the floor seemed to undulate like a tumultuous ocean.

The quartet was thrown to the ground by the violent quaking, their bodies unable to perceive direction. The dungeon rumbled and roared, seeming to be alive as it angrily protested their very presence. It went on this way for nearly three minutes before stopping as abruptly as it started. When it ceased, it ceased entirely as though it had never started.

The four looked around warily, frightened beyond words by this third quake. It seemed the dungeon was trying to eat them, what with all the unexpected quaking and tremoring. Yet as they looked around, no damage could be spotted. Not a piece loosed from the wall, not a pebble disturbed upon the ground. It seemed as though they had shared a hallucination.

That is, until a great crack crawled across the center of the chamber floor. It began at one side of the room and ran to the dead center, swallowing their little campfire in its maw. It wasted no time in opening either, gaping wide as it split apart the ground. The crevice was some fifteen meters across by the time it stopped growing, a sickly red glow spilling from its depths.

The four stared in awe and fear, bereft of either will or sense to move or speak. They watched in muted fascination as the hole gave way to a true terror, something fit to bestill even the mightiest of hearts.

From the maw of this great crevice, this veritable trench torn into the dungeon floor, came first a mighty hand. It swung blindly at the sky, searching for anything to grasp hold of. At last it found an edge, digging mighty fingers into the rock as it clenched the earth. Three more followed suit shortly after, similarly searching for and finding earth to clutch tightly upon for support.

Next a hideous sight, a great oxen head poking forth from the depths. A single horn stood on the left side of it, curving like a jet-black sickle. Very shortly after, a second head popped through, this one with a horn on its right side. The snouts snarled fiercely, puffing enormous clouds of white vapor into the cold air. The eyes were black as the horns, seeming to be voids rather than organs.

Next came the body, a mighty and muscled thing, revealing the two heads to share it. Indeed, they sat side by side each other, atop a mighty wall of muscle passing for a torso. It looked like some Olympian man, a perfectly chiseled figure in the bright red glow.

Lastly, the legs came forth as the creature hauled itself free of the pit. They were oxen as well, just as the heads upon its shoulders. Mighty and muscled as the torso, thighs that looked much like a man's. These lead into dual-jointed legs much like a cow or a bull. Enormous, jet-black hooves finished off the fearsome features.

The quartet stood in stunned silence as they beheld it, a freshly born Monster Rex. It stood an unnerving five meters tall, with four mighty arms and skin the color of coal. The fur that lay in patches here and there, looking as if torn by many battles, was as white as snow. It was, in no other words, a sight of true fear and horror.

The creature did not regard its onlookers at first, instead glancing lazily around its hunting ground. After but a few moments of taking in its surroundings, the great beast turned and crashed to its knees. All four arms reached into the pit that had just birthed, withdrawing what would only serve to further unsettle the quartet.

As it stood once more, it held a weapon in each of its four powerful hands. The top-right held a sword nearly two thirds its own height in length, likely four feet wide at the tip. The bottom-right held a dual-headed axe, an easy seven feet from beard to beard. The top-left held an enormous mallet, the head of which was easily four feet across. The bottom-left held a gargantuan club, looking something a mighty Oaktree uprooted and parted from its branches.

The beast turned at last to regard its prey, the now cowering party of unfortunate adventurers. It snarled evilly, showing off nasty yellow fangs, as if it were smiling at them. As it regarded them, the crevice which had given it birth shut completely with a bang. The floor seemed as if it had never been disturbed.

The four beheld their opponent, knowing fully well that death likely awaited, as it began a lumbering march toward them.


	14. Finale - To Defy God

Finale

To Defy God

Є

The party was bustling, not even a good hour into the festivities. The guild had done quite the amazing job getting the word around, drawing hundreds to the hastily put together festival. So thoroughly were the guests engrossed, imbibing the various assortments of liquors and fine foods, none seemed to even remotely recall the rumors flitting about the city.

The courtyard in front of Babel Tower was, at this point, a veritable smorgasbord of adventurers and Deities. Groups were gathered here and there around the actual smorgasbord of food, chatting and chewing the fat in the flickering light of the braziers dotting the surroundings. Despite the cold of Freeze gripping the land, the festival was warm with chatting bodies who seemed not to have a care in the world as they mingled with one another.

Yet, one Goddess in particular did in fact care about the rumors swirling around these last few days. One Goddess knew they were not mere rumors, but in fact a great calamity right beneath everyone's feet. Yes, one Goddess, whose sapphire eyes burned with determination, was in uninvited attendance among this crowd. Unnoticed, she slipped expertly through the thronging masses as she made her way for a proper vantage point.

This little Goddess, whose heart burned with a mixture of fury and worry, was about to bring the festivities crashing down. She had absolutely no intention of letting this slide, of letting a blatant cover-up go unchallenged, while her own children were likely in unfathomable danger. No, she would set this straight and blow the lid off the entire debacle, no matter what consequences it might bring her. There was not even room in her mind to spare a thought for the trouble a certain half-elf might face from her actions.

Hestia weaved her way through the crowd, gently nudging the occasional person or Deity out of her way, until she came to stand before the great fountain at the courtyard's center. It was a mighty fixture, standing easily four times the little Goddess' own height. Carved of snow-white marble, it glistened delicately in the combination of moonlight and the firelight cast by the raging braziers placed around it.

She looked up at it for a moment, the wall around its basin standing as high as her ample bosom. Those sapphire eyes, practically glowing with the reflected moon, were on the verge of tearing up. She had indeed come this far, and not without a large degree of anxiety, but here her heart wavered somewhat. She knew her plan was risky, foolhardy even. Yet, she had to do it, for Bell's sake chiefly though she did not forget Lincoln or the others.

With a few quick, deep breaths, little Hestia bade her heart to calm. It was now or never, so she closed her eyes and steeled herself for the coming storm. When she was done, her heart calm and her mind cleared, the Goddess careful climbed over the fountain's basin-wall. Taking care not to slip on the still wet marble, mostly dried since it had been turned off for the festival, she climbed to the top of the mighty fixture.

Taking a moment to steady herself, she looked around the bustling crowd. From here, she could see everything. Every rowdy adventurer telling tales of their exploits, every Deity chittering on about their Familia. Every single person and Divinity that seemed as though they couldn't care less about the obvious placation going on. The nearly blatant bait and switch made Hestia's stomach turn as she watched the crowd.

At last, the little Deity could stand no more. She tightly clutched the old leather book in her tiny hands, taking one more deep breath.

"Hey!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, startling almost everyone with her unrealistic volume.

Had her voice been any louder or higher of pitch, it may very well have broken the various glasses all over the place. So intense and commanding it was, all eyes turned away from their various fixations in search of the voice's source. One by one they fell upon her, all eyes within the formerly thronging group of party-goers. Hestia's anxiety was in no way assuaged by this, welling up in the back of her mind once more as they stared.

She waited for a few minutes, allowing the crowd to focus as well as her nervousness to subside somewhat, before beginning her attack.

"Of all my fellow Gods and Goddesses I see here… Of all the mighty and brave adventurers…" she stopped, filling her lungs with air so she could yell once more, "Do none of you give a shit?!"

There were quite a many gasps and curious stares in response to her vulgarity, many mouths agape at the words and tone of this childish looking Goddess. Hestia let her words sink in a moment for maximum effect before going on.

"I know there are quite a few powerful Familia here tonight. I know you must have, at least, some idea what's going on!"

Her eyes searched the crowd as she went on.

"The missing adventurers, the closed dungeon, the closed guildhall for crying out loud! So, either you're all stupid and slacking off or you just don't give a flying damn about your children! Well, which is it?!"

Hestia paused her accusing tirade, sapphires scanning the crowd frantically for any sign of like-minded reactions. Only bemused stares greeted her, a few on the verge of becoming enraged here and there. That is, until one particular set of emerald eyes caught her attention.

They swelled with the teary look of guilt and shame, the pointed ears framing the face seeming to droop. It was the very same half-elf she'd become rather well acquainted with these last two months. The advisor for her troublesome pair of adventurers, Eina Tulle, was possessed of the same look of worry and fury that gripped Hestia's own heart, though clearly overshadowed by shame as well.

She began to nudge her way through the crowd as well, pushing aside one or two of her confused coworkers in the process. Before a minute came to pass, Eina was climbing atop the fountain's basin-wall as well. She went no higher, standing below the Goddess as an act of deference, and instead turned to face the crowd. Hestia had no idea what was running through the young woman's mind as she watched her open her mouth to speak.

Yet, before the half-elf could utter a word, a burly hand grabbed her arm. An older gentleman, regal in appearance and bearing, slipped from the crowd and stood before the startled Eina. His face was twisted with anger and embarrassment.

"Miss Tulle, you will get down at once!" He hissed in a commanding and threatening tone.

He was about to pull her down, not even giving her a chance to respond, when Hestia's voice seemed to ring through the very heavens themselves.

"You will release her at once, old man." She spoke forcefully, "That is, unless you'd like me to knock the tower behind us over like a domino…"

The little Goddess had inadvertently, in her nervousness and seriousness, opened up her Arcanum. Her pale skin no longer glowed simply from the reflected moonlight but now shimmered brightly with her own divinity. Her formerly sapphire eyes now shone a myriad of colors as they glared hatefully at Eina's superior, filling the old man with no end of dread almost instantly. As he beheld the sight of the infuriated Goddess, his hand let go of the half-elf's arm and his trousers slowly grew a damp spot.

He slinked back into the crowd slowly, never for a moment averting his eyes from the wild-looking Hestia.

"Now, since none of you cared enough to ask this yourselves…" she said in an otherworldly tone, "This brave woman is going to tell you all why this lavish festival was put up out of nowhere. Right, Miss Advisor?"

Hestia cast her gaze to the now shaking Eina, her countenance literally glowing with power. The woman gulped anxiously, cursing herself for not becoming a tailor or anything else besides joining the guild. Yet, with resolve to right this attempted wrong before anything worse happened, she straightened herself up and swallowed her uncertainty.

"Th- This gathering… That is, this party… Well, more of a festival I suppose…"

As she stammered, trying to get her words out with no real progress, a warm feeling suddenly resonated from her back. It was indescribable, rivaling the comfort of a mother's arms around her newborn babe. It filled her with confidence and resolve, burning away her trepidation and uncertainty in an instant. With that, Eina stood tall and straightened her glasses as her mind filled with exactly what she wanted to say.

"I apologize, to all of you in attendance, on behalf of the Guild. We have sought to fool you, this night, with the extensive banquet and festivities laid out before you. You see, there's been a problem in the dungeon and we wanted to hide it until we could figure out what caused it."

She had more to say but was at that moment interrupted by an inebriated Goddess, one whose voice was all too familiar to Hestia.

"Ish thish something ta do with why my shildren habn returned from their exshpetishun?!"

A particularly drunk Loki, who could only be distinguished as female by her dress, slung her slurred question at Eina as her glass of Soma wine sloshed all over the ground. Her normally shut eyes were wide open as they sat upon her, curiosity burning through her drunken haze.

"Yes, Goddess Loki." Eina continued without batting an eye, "The stairs from floor twelve to thirteen collapsed suddenly, nearly four days ago now. We have detained the few adventurers who witnessed this to try and curb the news while we investigated its cause."

She stopped there, not out of nervousness but out of her elven sense of loyalty. A loyalty, that is, to the Guild for which she had lost much respect these last few days. Swallowing it, she pressed on.

"We have gotten nowhere in our investigation in that time. Now, I fear for those who remain trapped below…"

Eina bowed her head in shame as the warm feeling left her back. Hestia straightened herself up, having bent over to calm the half-elf with her aura, and threw her gaze back to the rapt masses. Her glow subsided somewhat as she addressed them.

"There you have it, the reason your collective asses were kissed so much tonight. So, do any of you care now?"

Her words stung many hearts in the crowd, some that earnestly had not put two and two together. Others were stung by the fact that they had let themselves be lead on so. Yet, all were abashed for one reason or another as the tiny Goddess looked out upon them.

"Well, now that you know what's up I have a proposition for any willing ears." Hestia spoke up, earning more curious looks, "For anyone willing to defy the Guild's closure of the dungeon and help me undo the collapse, I have a substantial reward on offer."

The crowd met her words with disbelieving eyes and hushed whispers to one another. Hestia was not well known by her Familia or her fame, but for being one of the poorest Deities living on Gekai. It was no small surprise that her claim of reward would be doubted, if not outright disbelieved.

"You all know the name of that big sword stuck on floor fifteen, right?" Hestia asked flatly, silencing the murmuring crowd, "Titanic, the sword of Francis? The adventurer that made a mockery of the Gods everyone possessing Falna?"

Now the eyes of nearly every attendee began to shine with either rage or insult, especially those of the Deities. Even through drunkenness, as in Loki's case, the name of Orario's greatest pariah rang clearly.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull, Hestia, but I'm certain you're just blowing hot air!"

It was Loki whom bellowed those words, having recovered from her stupor quite expertly. Hestia only grinned in response, raising the leather-bound book she had been clutching high above her head.

"Oh, I'm full of hot, angry air right now, dear Loki…" she replied smoothly, her voice full of venom, "But there is quite a substantial reward to whoever is willing to help me, and it is quite real…"

With that, she lowered the book to her navel. After turning it sideways, she threw is like a Frisbee into the crowd. It spun a few times before coming to rest neatly at Loki's feet, a deed the clumsy Hestia would never be able to pull off again if she tried.

"That book, his journal, is just the tip of the iceberg. I have much more info on him and his sword for anyone willing to join me…"

Hestia spoke these words with more gravity and charisma than she had ever mustered before in her life. Her heart simply burned with the surety that Bell was in trouble, leading her to be willing to go to any means to aid him. A cold sweat began to form upon her as she awaited an answer with bated breath, hoping her lure would work.

As the Goddess watched Loki, the crowd huddled around her shoulders as she flipped through the book, a gargantuan quake began to rumble through the ground beneath them all. The fountain shuddered and cracked under Hestia's feet, spilling the little Goddess onto the ground beneath.

Ϫ

The first swing seemed to come from nowhere, shattering the dungeon's rocky floor like brittle glass. The colossal monster had pivoted itself and swung its mighty mallet as though it were a feather. The group barely managed to separate in time, the gargantuan blow throwing them across the room like dolls.

Welf had managed to wrap Lily in his arms when he leapt, cushioning her impact with his own body. The two hit the ground some ten meters from where the mallet had landed, rolling many times before coming to a stop. It left them both fairly battered, despite Welf's attempted shielding, and unconscious on the ground.

Lincoln and Bell did not fare much better. The two were hurled in separate directions, both from each other as well as the smith and prum. They met with equally bruising tumbles across the stony floor, dings and scratches covering their armor in the process. The creature itself, towering above its easy prey, spared not a moment.

As the two still-conscious members recovered themselves, coughing and rasping for air, the monster began to saunter sinisterly toward their unconscious fellows. Each step shook the floor beneath them, occasionally knocking a stalactite loose from the ceiling. Its massive muscles rippled like taught rope under its jet-black skin as it meandered toward the two. Puffs of hot breath shot from its nose, white clouds in the cold dungeon air.

As Bell and Lincoln both watched, struggling to stand after the near miss, it stood at last before their friends. Crumpled and nearly motionless, knocked thoroughly silly by their flight, Welf and Lily stood no chance. The creature raised its mighty axe, rusted and stained with immeasurably bloody battles, as it readied a killing blow.

Lincoln's eyes never left that awful scene, playing out before him as though a dream. He couldn't look away, yet neither could he move. His body was tired and withered from lack of food and decent sleep. The young man was entirely powerless as he watched the monster ready itself to slaughter two of his friends. Though, even as he watched so intently, his eyes never caught the flash of silver and purple.

Bell had been watching as well, his muscles equally drained from the same conditions. Yet, unlike Lincoln, the boy was far from powerless to help. The drive to save his friends, the want to stop this beast, won out over his fear and fatigue.

As he watched it raise its axe, poising for the killing blow, the boy's heart glowed fiercely with an unknown feeling. The muscles in his legs bloomed with life anew, rested and rejuvenated by some unknown force. He gritted his teeth together hard as they flexed, readying himself to charge, and every nerve in his body flickered to life at once. He leaned down into a running stance and pushed off, never registering the inhuman speed with which he flew.

And fly he did, inasmuch as a human can that is. The moment he pushed from the ground and took that first step, Bell came upon the mighty creature with all the fury he could muster. Like a running stream of melted silver, he streaked through the air as the Hestia Knife glowed in time with his heart.

Before the creature's colossal weapon could make contact, Bell crashed into the cheek of the axe like a tsunami. It was knocked entirely from the creature's grasp, breaking a few of its fingers in the process. For the moment, Welf and Lily lived on as the gargantuan monster stumbled to its right a few steps.

Yet, Bell did not escape unscathed. In the impact, the boy had managed to shatter his new cuirass and right pauldron. His shoulder was also quite badly injured, rendering his right arm incredibly painful to move. This only occurred to the boy as he rose to his feet, readying himself to reengage the beast and dropping his knife in the process.

Jet-black and ruby-red eyes locked for only a moment, both opponents sizing up the will within each other. Bell quickly shot his left hand down to grab the knife, leaping to his left after grasping the hilt. He narrowly avoided another massive crash from the beast's mallet, shattered rock peppering him like angry hornets. Once more, Bell flew through the air like a ragdoll, his body coming to rest painfully hard against the dungeon wall.

Lincoln continued to watch the scene unfolding before him, his heart heavy as he leaned against his great-grandfather's sword. He wanted so badly to join in the foray, knowing fully well that Bell was as good as dead if he didn't. Alas, the older companion lacked his younger teammate's resolve to push through his pain. The initial flight and tumble had taken much more of a toll on Lincoln, his weaker body unable to withstand the aftermath of the monster's mighty blow.

So he only managed to watch as the boy struggled to his feet, doing his absolute best to ready himself. He could only look on as the beast lumbered menacingly toward his teammate, his friend, with its injured lower-right hand wrapping its good fingers around its sword. He could only bear witness as Bell readied himself to engage in mortal combat this towering colossus, death all but assured.

It was no engagement, not in any proper sense, as the monster raised its sword and swung with both right arms. The blade turned sideways before slicing into the dungeon wall, rending it like tissue paper, in an attempt to bisect the boy. There was no hope to counter or divert, much less to block, the massive blow. Instead, Bell leapt up with all he could muster, hopping over the massive blade like a jump rope.

After landing, the boy tried to line up a counter, running forward to slice at the creature's ankles. All his instincts told him this was the best bet, being so far outclassed in size. Yet, he did not react in time as it raised one leg, pivoting on the other and swinging its blade around along the ground. It cut neatly through the floor, headed straight for Bell as he landed his most recent step.

It was all so fast, so well executed, he could do nothing but catch that monstrous edge with his own powerful weapon. The boy braced himself appropriately, sure he would not survive, and lined the Hestia Knife up to bite the monster's blade as it made contact. Amazingly, surely by some miracle, his gamble paid off in a most bitter fashion.

The two edges made contact, neither giving any ground, as Bell felt his forearm crack under the pressure. In an instant he was thrown like never before, his life spared only by the knife his Goddess had given him. He cut a wide arc through the air, within a few meters of touching the ceiling at the apex of his flight. When he hit the ground, he did so fantastically and tumbled at least a good twenty times before coming to a stop.

Pieces of the boy's armor lay scattered about the dungeon floor, torn off by his graceless tumble across the chamber. He lay mostly still now, chest barely rising and falling, as the beast approached once more. Lincoln remained stilled as ever, his mahogany eyes sitting with despair upon his broken companion.

His body ached in ways he'd never felt before. It paled his memories of days long past, spent ringing his hammer on steel and iron in that faraway smithy. Those days, he'd always gone to bed feeling as though trampled by horses. At least as he imagined it would feel. Now, though, after that flight the monster's mallet had sent him on, he knew his imagination was sorely lacking.

Yet, as he watched the creature bear down on the crumpled boy, he wanted to push through it. He desperately bade his legs to move, to some small avail, despite the feeling of broken glass in his bones. With every haggard step though, the creature only grew further away. With each miniscule pace, the monster's wide strides easily put ever more distance between them.

Those mahogany eyes filled with tears at both the pain and a large amount of shame. He recalled Bell's smiling face on many occasions in his recent memory, always selfless and kind. His recent good fortunes stemmed mainly from the boy and his Goddess, whose face he also pictured as he sauntered along. They were not only the reason he was alive right now but also the source of hope that he and his sister could make it in this place.

He could not stand the thought of letting them down. He could not stand the image of the Goddess and his sister, destitute and mourning over the loss of their only family. Yet, most of all, he could not stand the thought of being the cause of it with his inaction and weakness.

The young man watched that horrid creature raise its mallet, never sensing the heat radiating throughout his body. The only thing that rang in his heart, the only thought that lay within his mind, was how much he wished to stop it all. The last image to bloom in his mind's eye, before his sight was filled with red, was of himself being too weak to stop his sister's tears.

Lincoln did not register his feet propelling him forward until he was upon the beast. As he flew through the air, his awareness returning to him mid-jump, the man seized his sudden opportunity to attack. Titanic displayed the sharpness of her edge as his swing struck true.

Ϫ

Welf regained consciousness to the sound of a terrible roar. A loud, pained sound that shook the very ground. It was beastly and monstrous, something which he'd never even imagined, as it carried throughout the room.

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the dimly lit room around him as he came fully to. The first sensation to great him was pain, pain all over his body. An intense sort he had never quite felt, blooming like flowers in springtime. The next feeling was a tiny warmth pressed close to his chest, breathing slowly and irregularly. It felt sad and broken as he clutched it tightly to him, still mostly outside of himself.

He lowered his eyes to see it, still fuzzy as though he were quite drunk. The first thing he could make out was bloody, matted hair that still retained a slight chestnut hue. The face was towards him, as he discovered upon brushing the hair aside, and covered in even more of the red liquid. Alarm washed over him as he looked at her, the little prum supporter with which he'd shared playful banter on many recent occasions.

She was alive, this much was a relief, but only barely so. The redhead's silvery eyes glistened with tears as he looked at her face. Able to bear no more, he looked away and threw his gaze toward the source of the bestial roar. As he watched, his eyes widening in disbelief, he clutched the little prum slightly tighter to his chest.

There was the creature, the very same that had been born before their eyes, short an arm. It was howling wildly, writhing in pain as it clutched the stump of its top-left arm with its mangled right hand. The creature was thoroughly disrupted as it flailed about manically, clearly thrown off by this sudden amputation. Yet, strangely, no blood seeped between the fingers around the stump.

This little detail escaped his notice as he watched what happened next.

Lincoln stood, visibly unsteady on his feet, between the great beast and Bell. The boy lay huddled on the ground, now coughing as he tried to rouse himself to fight once more. However, despite the unsteadiness of Lincoln's gait, the man seemed to glow with an unnatural aura. It wasn't so much color as a distortion of the air around him.

Welf relaxed his grip on Lily somewhat, the girl stirring slightly as he did, and thought to reach for his sword. It was Bell's voice that stopped both his actions as well as the train of thought that spurred them.

"Welf, are you alive?!" Bell cried out.

"Yeah!" Welf replied, loud but weakly so.

"Is Lily ok?!"

Once more Bell shouted his concern, haggard coughing distorting his voice. Still, the words rang clearly enough for Welf to make out. He looked down at the prum once more, now able to see more of her as he removed his arms from around her. It dawned on him then just how bad a shape she was in, being the most fragile of their quartet.

"She's alive, but she's not doing well!" he shouted back, voice hoarse.

"Good enough!" Bell called out once more, beginning to stand on wobbly feet, "Protect her! If you get an opening, run for it!"

Welf had no idea how serious Bell was about the last bit, being that Minotaur blocked both exits from the room. All the same, he shouted his acknowledgement as he looked around for Lily's bag.

Another miracle perhaps, or maybe just dumb luck. Whatever the case, he managed to spot the rucksack she so diligently carried. It was only a few meters from where they lay, still in one piece by the looks of it. Welf had most likely never been so thankful as he was at that moment to see such an otherwise unassuming piece of equipment.

He gently laid Lily's head on the ground, praying he wouldn't jostle anything serious as he did so, before trying to stand. It was then he realized his legs were quite broken, the amazing pain flaring to life as he tried to move them. Knowing it would be no use, he gave up on standing and started to crawl for the rucksack. Bit by bit, to the tune of raging battle on his left, Welf inched ever closer as he crawled along the stony floor.

When at last he'd reached it, the smith gripped a strap with his teeth and began the painful journey back. He prayed fervently that something useful would be in there. Anything at all he could use to better Lily's chances of surviving this.

ϴ

Bell shook his head side to side a few times, trying to shake off the ringing and blurry vision. The same roar that had roused Welf back to consciousness had also stirred Bell from his stupor. Being directly underneath the monster, the boy had received the full force of its pained roar. He had wasted no time regaining himself, standing on wobbly legs as quickly as he could manage.

The horrid creature loomed over him still, though it had stumbled a few massive steps back by this point. It clutched at the stump where its mallet wielding arm had been, fuming and thrashing around in a combination of fury and shock. Bell didn't notice the lack of blood from the creature's sudden amputation, being more focused on the sight standing directly before him.

It was just a little over a head taller than Bell himself, covered from head to toe in scratches and bruises. Dark brown hair, indistinguishable from black in the dim light, floated lightly in a soft breeze carrying through the room. It took the boy a few moments of concentrating on the figure to finally realize it was his comrade, Lincoln, standing there like some sentinel.

The man was shaking like a leaf, his exposed back covered in splotches of his own blood. The falna upon his back seemed to be shifting as well, wriggling around like worms or snakes. His battered legs were wobbly and unsure, giving off an air of uncertainty to his stance. Yet, this uncertainty was imperceptible when he opened his mouth and addressed the boy.

"You good to go, Bell?" he asked calmly.

The boy only stared in awe at first, more than a little shocked at the dissonance between the man's voice and his posture. It was more than a few moments before he managed to compose himself and respond.

"I'm alive and standing." He replied flatly, "Think we stand a chance?"

Lincoln didn't move, his gaze locked with the monster's as he stood there. He trembled and shook heavily as though very cold, which would be little surprise considering the weather. At last he responded, never turning to look at his comrade.

"They still alive?" he asked, still unsettlingly calm.

"Yeah, they're still breathing." Bell responded in kind.

"You live up to that skill, you know?"

Bell was at first confused by this statement, being not entirely sure what the man was referring to. It dawned on him after a tad bit of consideration that his recently acquired skill, 'Argonaut', was the subject. He remembered the heroes in those tales his grandfather used to tell him, how he'd wanted to be like them since he was a child. The compliment sunk in warmly as he chewed over the words.

"I saw what you did, throwing yourself into that axe like a madman." Lincoln piped up again, moving his hands to grip Titanic in a ready position, "Guess I should learn from you if I'm ever gonna get the hang of this adventuring stuff…"

Bell's eyes watered just a tad as he heard those words, remembering the treatment he'd first received upon arriving in Orario. He felt, then and there, that the distance between he and the Kenki might not be quite so monumental after all.

He took a few steps and stood beside Lincoln, both adventurers locking gaze with the massive beast before them. There, he settled himself into a ready stance before repeating his last question.

"So, think we stand a chance?" he asked once more, confidence washing through his voice.

"I think we can mess it up pretty bad before it gets us…" Lincoln replied with the same eerie calm.

"Well, here's hoping you haven't got a clue what you're talkin about."

The boy smiled bravely as he spoke those words, nudging his partner's shoulder playfully.

"I'll take the legs, you go high." Lincoln said, a hint of rage bubbling into his voice.

"Too old to jump anymore?" Bell teased.

The two shared one more grin, this one akin to the sort that might decorate the faces of soldiers charging to their death, before tearing off toward the beast. The short distance it had retreated, perhaps about ten meters, was covered in an instant. The two fell upon it like a furious hurricane of lacerating swipes and jabs, pushing it even further back at first.

Lincoln went for its legs as he had said, swinging Titanic around recklessly like a piece of driftwood. It felt alarmingly light in his hands, as if it weren't there at all, and sang with every bite that found purchase. The monster's flesh was indeed tougher than steel, yet still it gave way satisfyingly with every true hit. Tufts of fur came loose of parted skin, not a drop of blood spilling for the man's effort.

Bell had gone high, leaping upon the creature's blade when it hit the ground on its first retaliatory strike. He ran up it like an acrobat, ignoring the various screams of pain resounding throughout his body. When he'd reached its hand he dug the Hestia knife in deep, leaping and committing a sort of spin around the critter's forearm.

The beast tried to swat Bell off, missing wildly with its remaining left arm. The boy circled its forearm two full times before his blade came free of its flesh, his momentum carrying him high into the air. The creature grabbed for him twice before managing to wrap a massive hand around Bell. It squeezed him hard for only a moment, intent on popping him with its deathly grip, before releasing him and roaring in pain once more.

As it had held the boy, Lincoln reared Titanic back like a baseball bat and swung with all his might. So powerful was his swing that his broadsword had nearly fallen free of his belt. The sword found ample purchase just above the massive monster's left hoof, piercing flesh and muscle to bite deeply into the bone. This elicited another pained roar, loud as before, as it dropped Bell from its grip.

Both combatants were thrown off by this, stunned and a bit deafened by the report from the creature's maw. Lincoln didn't see the massive hand headed for him, swatting him away like a bug before he realized it. Titanic was left behind, still cleaved into the creature's shin, as Lincoln flew across the room.

Bell hit the ground, released from the monster's grasp, with a sickening thud. He'd landed on his feet with improper form. He felt the bones in his shin and feet splinter and crack, wincing and gritting his teeth as the pain washed through him. He fell over almost immediately, recoiling from the shock, and was rendered powerless to stop what came next.

The great monster huffed angrily, its nostrils flaring wide with each breath, as it watched Lincoln sail through the room. It completely ignored the boy rolling around in pain at its feet. When it saw Lincoln finally land, the man coming to rest against the far wall, it passed its gargantuan club to its good right hand. With the sword held haphazardly in its mangled hand, the creature took a pose as though it were about to throw a javelin.

Bell watched in horror as it did this, unable to stand on his battered legs. Before his eyes, the creature heaved the massive club at his comrade. It flew somewhat straight, not at all made for such an attack, and managed to crash almost directly where the man had landed. Bell couldn't make anything out through the thick cloud of dust stirred up by the brutal attack, his heart sinking low into his gut as he all but assured himself Lincoln was lying dead under the massive weapon.

The creature stared for a moment at the cloud kicked up by its weapon, watching for any sudden stirrings therein, before turning its attention back to the boy.

Ω

Lincoln had been knocked thoroughly unconscious upon his initial impact with the wall. It was when the massive club had made impact, thrown at him like a spear, that he was immediately brought back to wakefulness. The sudden pain was far more than anything he'd ever felt before, tearing through every inch of his body instantaneously.

By some miracle or sheer dumb luck, the club had managed to miss him almost entirely. Yet, though his life was momentarily spared, it had found part of him as it dug into the wall. The man's left arm, draped across a boulder after his own impact, had taken the attack in his body's stead. It was now stuck between the bulb of the club and the rocky wall against which he lay.

Needless to say, his arm was completely ruined from the impact. He felt every bit of it as he sat there, so pained he could not even scream. Like an animal stuck in a snare, his first response was to pound away at the massive hunk of wood. This was, unsurprisingly, to no avail as the thing would not budge even a millimeter.

Lincoln's shock wore off after a few minutes of this, though the pain did not subside in the slightest. His attention was eventually caught by the sounds of battle raging in the distance. The loud clangs and crashes of steel against rock pulled his focus away from the ruined arm. The dust stirred up by the club had at this point settled enough that he could see through it. The sight was not a pretty one either, only furthering the man's panic as he watched.

Bell was locked in a losing game of attempting to dodge the massive beast's sword. The creature had by now lost all sense of tactic, swinging the colossal blade around wildly as it tried to land a hit. Bell was fast, of this there is no doubt, but he was steadily losing ground to the frantic creature. Blow after blow, swing after swing, it pushed him ever further back without leaving room to counter. The boy could only continue to try and lead it away from his comrades, desperately avoiding footfalls and being cornered.

Lincoln's heart, filled with such burning bravado only minutes earlier, began to sink like a rock. He could see no way around this, his ruined arm pinning him in place as his comrade fought a losing battle. He felt there was nothing left and was on the verge of submitting to the despair when a sound caught his ear.

A sudden clang resounded from his right side, drawing the man's teary eyes almost instantly. It was his broadsword, still in the scabbard somehow. It had fallen free of the frog on which the scabbard hung from his belt. He looked at it for a few moments, lost in his despair as he stared at the blade, before a sudden idea lit up his mind.

He gritted his teeth hard and turned his gaze to his left arm. The sight was grisly to say the least, the pain coming back with a vengeance as he beheld it. But, somewhat to his satisfaction, he could clearly see that the better portion of his upper arm was in sight. He considered to himself exactly what he was about to do, noting that it would likely be unimaginably painful.

"Gods…" he hissed, turning his view back to the blade.

He reached for it with his right hand, wanting to scream as a fresh wave of agony washed through him. He managed to wrap his fingers around the handle, his grip exceedingly weak as he fought the pain. He tentatively picked up the blade, still tightly in its scabbard, and laid it between his legs. Gripping the scabbard with his knees, squeezing it with all his might, he managed to pull it free of its carrier in one go.

Lincoln's mind was ablaze as he pondered his idea, his stomach doing all sorts of acrobatics as his imagination went wild. He cursed to himself as he looked upon his ruined arm once more, pinned as ever by the great club. He wanted to stop right there, uncertain that he could actually manage the pain. Yet, as he considered what his inaction might bring, the man decided it was damned if you do or don't at this point.

He clenched his teeth together, pressing his tongue against them so as not to swallow it, and lifted the razor-sharp broadsword. With all the strength he could beckon to his muscles, he brought the blade crashing down upon the exposed bit of his arm. He shut his eyes just before it made contact, a flurry of colors blooming behind his eyelids once it had.

The young man's mouth flung open that moment, a scream the likes of which he'd never uttered tearing its way from his throat. He bellowed almost loud enough to be heard over Bell's melee, tears pouring from his eyes as the pain rang through his form.

He took a few haggard breaths as he regained himself, readying for the next blow. He opened his eyes to look for only a moment, shutting them before the horrid sight could fully register. With all the confidence he was likely to muster, Lincoln raised the broadsword once more. He shook as if a seizure were possessing him as he brought the blade down again.

The pain was not as intense this time, thankfully, as shock had now begun to set itself upon him. The blade found purchase once more, informing Lincoln again just how bad of a decision this was. He cursed and spat, dropping the blade as the agony shook him to his core. Yet, beyond the raging pain, there was a deep sensation welling up in the bottom of his heart as well.

It began to burn like a candle at first, as he cursed and raved at the agony, gradually coalescing into a raging blaze. When at last it overtook him, the man spat a few more vulgar words and picked up his broadsword once more. His eyes betrayed him as his vision darkened.

One final time, Lincoln lifted the sword and brought it down on the last few tethers holding him pinned to that massive club.

ϴ

Bell stepped and twisted, throwing his weight around like a sack of grain to avoid the chasing death. The great monster, both heads sneering in rage, was relentless in its attacks. It flung its remaining weapon, the massive great-sword, through the air with wild abandon. Every time the boy managed to dodge a killing blow, his legs and feet screaming in absolute agony, there was no time to try and launch a counter. The beast recovered and swung again before he could react, leaving the boy to simply continue the deathly dance.

It carried on this way for what felt like ages as fatigue began to settle in Bell's form. His breathing was becoming ragged and stressed, his eyes burning as blood trickled into them. Step by step, twist and turn, he was pushed to the wall before he'd realized it.

The monster roared loudly at him, the nasty breath from its maws washing over him, as it raised its sword high over its heads.

"Bell!"

The voice was familiar but the identity failed to register to the boy. His mind was preoccupied with the blade about to crash upon him, nowhere left to run or dodge. It was when the creature's remaining left hand landed beside him that Bell's attention was garnered.

The blade came crashing down a few meters beside him, knocked off course when the creature's hand was taken. Bell turned his gaze from the monster to see Lincoln standing at its feet, his shattered broadsword clutched tightly in his bloody right hand. The man's left arm was gone from just past the deltoid muscle, the stump bleeding copiously as the boy stared in shock. The man turned his wild, inhuman gaze to him.

"Got this?" he asked, his tone startling.

Bell shook his head absentmindedly, not fully comprehending what the question had meant. The man didn't seem to be interested in the nature of his response though, turning and throwing the broken sword into the distance.

Lincoln ran up to the monster, still recoiling in its own shock, and reached his remaining hand out for Titanic. He grabbed hold of her, pulling the blade free to the sound of the monster's cracking bone, and leapt back immediately afterward. The creature fell to one knee, wrapping its only good hand tightly around the wounded leg. Lincoln looked back to the wide-eyed Bell, flashing a sickly grin as he spoke.

"S'up to you after this, Hero." He said, turning his gaze back to the creature.

The monster had not managed to recover itself yet, still agonized over the treatment of its shin. Both heads stared hatefully at the man, perhaps somewhat curious why he wouldn't seem to die. It stood no chance when he launched his next attack.

Lincoln leaned down, still bleeding wildly as his consciousness began to fade completely, and launched himself at the monster. He ran faster than he ever had, leaping at the last moment and swinging Titanic with all he had left. The strike was true and found its target with insane precision. In a flash, the right head was removed entirely and flew through the air as Lincoln leapt past the creature.

The head burst into a cloud of black dust before it hit the ground. Lincoln landed not long after this, breathing raggedly as he stumbled forward a few paces. He stopped suddenly, dropping Titanic with a loud clang, and fell to his knees. From there he keeled over and passed out like a light, leaving Bell unsure whether he yet lived.

The boy watched the monster react violently to the loss of one of its heads, standing up despite the pain and flailing around wildly. It now possessed nothing of its former intelligence, if it had any to begin with, and was little more than a raving pile of hate and fury. Bell was too shocked by what he had seen to react to this at first, simply standing in dumb awe as the beast flailed and roared.

When his mind returned to him, realizing his chance was here and now, the monster had turned and picked up its sword once more. Bell leapt aside and readied himself for the final charge. It was now or never, win or die, as he stared the frantic creature down.

Ruby eyes locked with endless blackness as the two charged for one another, the monster raising the blade over its head furiously. It brought it crashing down in the blink of an eye, biting hard into the ground beneath. Bell leapt expertly to the side, the pain in his legs entirely gone from his mind, and flung himself atop it once more.

He found firm footing and began to run up the blade, the soles of his shoes falling apart as it cut into them. Before he could make it to the top, the monster raised the sword once more and flung the boy into the air. He spun and twisted in mid-air, turning himself to look the creatures its wild eyes.

As he began to fall, positioned like he was diving into water, the boy could here bells ringing all around him. He failed to notice the glow consuming his hands as he came down upon the beast. It thrust its blade upward to try and pierce the boy, Bell pushing his blade against it to shift himself out of the way.

As he plummeted, covering the last of the distance, he lined up the Hestia Knife and thrust it out with all his might. The blade glowed a vibrant violet as it found its mark in the massive monster's skull. Bell could not retain his grip after this, his hands coming loose of the handle as he rolled over the head and down the creature's back. He hit the ground hard and rolled a few times before coming to a stop.

Now disarmed, the boy spun around as soon as he could only to be greeted with an awe-inspiring sight. He leapt to his feet in time to see the creature come crashing its knees, deader than a doornail. It sat on its knees for only a moment before exploding into a massive cloud of black dust, two enormous stones dropping to the ground in its stead. Bell could hardly believe his eyes as he watched.

One final item was left behind in the creature's wake, though the boy didn't spy it as his consciousness left him. An enormous, jet-black horn, curved like a scythe, fell to the ground and teetered there.

Ϭ

The hodge-podge of adventurers and Deities ran briskly through the halls of floor fifteen, following the sounds of raging combat ringing throughout. All were quite winded by this point, having been running for the last hour to get here so quickly. Yet, the desire to reach the source of the commotion burned enough to keep them moving. All wanted to find the combatants alive, for one reason or another, and had no intention of giving up due to fatigue.

It was when the sounds suddenly stopped, the melee seeming to come to an abrupt end, that all stomachs in the group did a simultaneous flip. Hestia was likely the most worried of the bunch, her own divine heart sinking like a stone when the commotion ceased. The little Goddess threw caution to the wind at this point, running like mad into the depths.

After a few more twists and turns, the seemingly endless hallways finally opened up upon a gargantuan room. Hestia bolted in without a second thought, the rest of the group catching up shortly after. She ran straight to where her two children lay, only about a meter apart from each other, and was immediately overcome.

Bell was in rough shape, to say the least. What remained of his clothing was bloody and tattered, his body covered in bruises and jagged lacerations. His snow-white hair was matted and nearly the ruby color of his eyes. Said eyes, closed as the boy lay unconscious, were sunken and off-color. His chest rose and fell steadily, though this was little comfort to Hestia.

When she looked to Lincoln, her stomach turned circles instantly. He lay in a veritable pool of what she could only assume was his own blood. His left arm was missing almost entirely, the remainder a sickening sight. His shirt was entirely missing, along with every last piece of his armor, and his back was more or less one enormous bruise. He looked like a broken doll as he lay there, barely breathing.

"They alive, Hestia?" a familiar Goddess asked, placing a concerned hand on the worried Hestia's shoulder.

The little Deity turned to see Loki's concerned face, eyes uncharacteristically open and full of sympathy.

"I think so…" she muttered in reply.

Loki kneeled down and looked the two over, sizing up their wounds and situation with unusual gravity. After a moment of this, she looked back to Hestia.

"Guess breakin the rules every now and again ain't no harm, eh?" she whispered.

With that, Loki stood and rubbed her hands together. Hestia wasn't sure what she'd meant at first, being that Loki tended to retain a hands-free policy. It was when her fellow Goddess began to glow, her Arcanum manifesting physically around her, that Hestia understood. She straightened up, releasing her own divinity as well, and the two gave a little helping hand to the battered adventurers.

The worst of their wounds were closed up then and there, Lincoln's stump ceasing its bleeding. Hestia might've gone on, throwing the rules out the window and healing them fully, had Loki not stopped her.

"Whatever they fought, they did it well." She stated calmly, "Best we not go too far, or you might leave em without a Goddess after this."

Hestia wanted to protest but decided to leave well enough alone. She had already defied the guild, stomping all over their authority in the process, and stood poised to be sent back to Tenkai as it was. Loki's wisdom reached her and the little Goddess resealed her Arcanum, leaving the two to recover on their own from there.

"Are you going to search for your familia too, Loki?" Hestia asked, changing the subject.

"Nah, they probably didn't even notice any of this." She replied with a grin, "They'll be back in their own time"

The Goddesses looked at the two lying on the ground, now in somewhat better condition. Hestia cursed in her mind as she watched their unconscious forms. She knew it would only get more complicated from here on out.

Ж

The quartet was removed from the enormous room by the group that had followed Hestia's mad campaign into the dungeon's depths. It was a relatively uneventful return, all four battered and unawares for the entire trip. Yet, the whole group made some note that the dungeon itself seemed oddly empty and calm as they returned. It left a few unsettled, though none were much affected in the long run.

When they had at last made it to the surface, the battered party was brought to the guild for treatment. Some few heated exchanges occurred, in relatively little time, before they were admitted and treatment rendered. Here, the group formed after Hestia's display parted ways. The Goddess spoke with them, assuring the promised reward would be given before long, and was left to tend to her children.

Titanic was left in the little Goddess' charge as well, though not without some spiteful and jealous glares. This, along with the two enormous magic-stones and the horn, would serve to greatly improve the tiny familia. Yet, that is for another story at another time.

Here and now, we must end our tale. The group survived their first true challenge, though the road would only become rockier from here. For the moment, however, the glory of this conquered challenge would shine brightly upon them. Especially Lincoln and Bell, whose fates were intertwined at this crossroad.

The man and boy lay sleeping in that clinic-room for some time after, both haunted with dreams of a vast emptiness occupied by a single monolithic stone fixture.

Afterword

Allow me to thank everyone who has read my work and finished it, along with those who may have grown bored and abandoned it. Whether you have finished this piece or only read a portion of it, I thank all of you who gave it a chance from the bottom of my heart. I hope that those of you who have finished it are satisfied, perhaps even interested in the sequel. Whichever is the case, thank you once again.

This is the first bit I've written in well over nine years, as well as the first story I've ever finished. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, unfortunately, as I find my own style to be droll, boorish and longwinded. Alas, we are likely our own worst critics. Well, now it's finished and it's out there so I hope it is somewhat up to snuff.

I'd like to thank a few people for this, being that so much effort and inspiration went into the composition of this piece. Firstly, to RagingRider and all others that review hereafter, thank you for your critique and your time. One must have feedback if ever to improve in any endeavor. Secondly, thank you to my great-grandmother and uncle, who convinced me to actually return to writing and helped me brainstorm. Also, I want to thank my parents for lending me books for reference and study as well as giving me their veteran opinions.

Lastly, though perhaps chiefly, thank you Fujino Omori for coming up with this wonderful world. Without the original creators, whose imaginations birth the fandoms we adore, there would be no place for our fan-based pieces. I'd like to give credit where credit is due, being that I only rearranged the story and added a few of my own characters.

Well, thank you once more to all of you that have read this story of mine. I hope you enjoyed it and will read the sequel once I start on it.

-Adjudicato


End file.
